


Paradise Lost

by GrimalkinInTheSewers



Series: Enigma Tales (EN) [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Genetic Engineering, Non-Linear Narrative, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimalkinInTheSewers/pseuds/GrimalkinInTheSewers
Summary: ‘It did not work on Earth,’ he said.‘No, but we are not human. We are Cardassians. I did not raise these children to rule our world. I want them to be a part of our society, a useful part. They know that, and they accept their place. We are Cardassians. We know that the common good has to be placed above individual interests.’‘Even above you?’ he sneered.The question seemed to surprise her. ‘I’m just an instrument, Elim. I have my part to play, and I will. All I do, I do for Cardassia. I thought you knew that by now.'Years ago the Obsidian Order experimented on Cardassian DNA to create better agents. They thought none of these children had survived the termination of the experiment, but they were wrong. At the end of the Dominion war, the lost children took their chance to seize power. Their goal is to change Cardassia forever. Some say they created paradise, but the beauty of this paradise lies in the eye of the beholder.
Relationships: Elim Garak/Tora Ziyal, Garak / OFC, Garak / OMC, Julian Bashir/Ezri Dax
Series: Enigma Tales (EN) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985200
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gene Roddenberry invented Star Trek. His whole universe belongs to Paramount, including the island therein called Deep Space Nine. I’m only borrowing them briefly for my own worlds. 
> 
> This story is based on Star Trek Deep Space Nine and the novel ‘A Stitch in Time’ by Andrew Robinson. 
> 
> It is a story about Cardassia, Cardassias, and characters interacting with them. One of the main characters is, obviously, Garak. This is, just to point it out again, AU.

_GARAK: You sound disappointed. I thought you enjoyed mystery novels._  
_BASHIR: I do. Human mystery novels. The problem with Cardassian enigma tales is that they all end the same way. All the suspects are always guilty._  
_GARAK: Yes, but the challenge is determining exactly who is guilty of what._

_Star Trek Deep Space Nine, Distant Voices_

‘Citizens of Cardassia. On this day a group of people, motivated by greed and hunger for power, betrayed our trust and surrendered us to the enemy without a single shot. They call this an alliance. I say, it is treason. Remember my words, Cardassia will not gain anything from this alliance. From this day on, Cardassia is no longer free. It has become a protectorate of the Dominion, sold by those who swore to protect us. We can and must not tolerate this. It is our patriotic duty to destroy this alliance, and bring the traitors to justice. For the Empire, for our freedom, for the future of our children. This day will be avenged.’

‘To all of you, I say, Cardassia will be strong again. In the past, our enemies have treated us with contempt. Due to the weakness and mistakes of our so called leaders we have continuously lost territory and respect. I promise you, together with our new friends we will reclaim what we lost. This day will make Cardassia great again. We have already regained the territory we lost. Do not be deceived by the envy and bitterness of those who have led Cardassia into chaos. Their lies will become obvious in the light of the truth. They will be held responsible for their failure. Today is a great day for Cardassia.’

### Cardassia, 2403

"Can I do something to change that?" Elim asked wearily. He looked at the young woman before him with a mixture of regret and helplessness. She was so angry lately. Part of him could understand. Another part wished he could help her. He had been in the same situation once and feared it would not end well. Still, he knew she had to make her own decisions, make her own mistakes, just as he had once done. Forcing her to act on his terms would only drive her into disaster faster. At least that was what he had learned from his experience. Sometimes he regretted that she was so much like him.

“Tell me the truth!” She demanded.

Elim suddenly saw a series of paths ahead of him, all of them decisions, all of them emerging from this one moment. He could see how they would change Cardassia, how they would change him. He could also see that there wasn't one of them that wouldn't cost a terrible price. For a moment he wished he had become a different man, who had made different decisions in the past ... decisions that hadn't got him to this point. The next moment he dismissed that thought as irrelevant. The past couldn't be changed. The only thing you could shape was the future. “You know, sometimes I was scared when I watched you when you were a kid. You could be merciless. You reminded me of someone I once knew. "

"Don't try to change the subject," she said angrily. “There is no point in trying to avoid my questions with evasive answers. I learned from the best. "

"Did you also learn that flattery brings you answers?"

That made her smile for a moment. "Sometimes. Depends on the subject of the interrogation. "

Elim laughed. “It seems this subject is receptive to your technique. Very well. It is a teacher's greatest success when his students outperform him. "

"You also taught me not to be distracted from my goal."

"I did, didn't I?" He smiled a melancholy smile. “But part of me thinks you were born with this tenacity. All right then."

He made his decision, and he already hated himself the moment he did it. In the end, however, it was just one more thing he would regret. There were so many that he had long lost count. “The truth, Kaleen? Listen well because I will never repeat myself. This is the truth: "

### Cardassia, 2378

"I hear you have taken your maiden name again."

Tashiba Cotan, formerly Ducat, smiled thinly. “My marriage was arranged by our families. The only feelings I associate with this relationship are shame and regret. Everyone knows the humiliations I've suffered, but that's not the only reason. I am a patriot, Mr. Garak. I have no sympathy for traitors."

"I'm glad to hear that." A well rehearsed statement. Dukat's widow was a clever woman. “So, from one patriot to another, do your children share your views, Dr. Cotan?"

Her mouth twitched. She was good at keeping her facial expression neutral, but it was hard to hide anger from a telepath. Still, Elim was impressed.

“Of course.”

“Wonderful. That must be a great satisfaction to you. It was such a pleasure talking to you, Doctor, maybe we can meet again later? For dinner perhaps?”

“I am sure you are a very busy man, Mr. Garak. I wouldn't presume to impose on your time like that. "

"Nonsense. Between us, the diplomatic service can be very boring at times. "

A gul of the seventh order came up to them and held out his hand to Cotan. “Tashiba, I didn't know you were here. What a pleasant surprise. "

Cotan smiled, more relaxed this time. "My cousin invited me."

"Oh right, Gul-tar Raghman." The man emphasized it with a sidelong glance at Elim.

Elim grinned in amusement. "Truly? I didn't realize you were related to the head of Central Command, Doctor. How interesting."

“Yes, many people are not aware of it. Makor, I haven't been to these events in a while,” Cotan said hastily. "Why don't you introduce me to your friends?"

The man was happy to do so, of course, and Cotan turned to Elim with mock regret.

“I'm sorry to say goodbye so quickly, Mr. Garak. Maybe we can continue our conversation another time? I was pleased to make your acquaintance. "

"The pleasure is mine, Doctor." Elim looked after the two of them. The differences between Raghman and her cousin were remarkable. Tashiba Cotan was not only a strikingly beautiful woman, she was also a typical military wife. Raghman had always said that her cousin had loved Dukat, but now she obviously had no problem claiming the opposite. Anything else would of course have been very reckless in the current political climate.

Elim picked up a glass of Kanar and watched the guests at the gala. The occasion of the celebration was the birthday of the daughter of a legate. The majority of those present consisted of members of the military or their relatives. As an employee of the diplomatic service, he was not part of their elite and they mostly ignored him. It didn't bother him.

He'd always preferred to stay in the background.

### Cardassia, 2375

"You can ask any of them whenever you want."

"Aren't you worried that I might use them against you?" Elim couldn't stop himself from asking.

Raghman laughed. “Elim, in all the time we've known each other, you have never turned against me. You never even tried. Without your help, all of this would have never been so easy. I know that I can trust you because even if you could, you would never act against me. You're far too big a coward for that, and more than that, you know I will create the future we both want. This is our destiny. You won't stop us. You don't really want to. "

### Earth, 2379

"The Romulans are as arrogant and conceited as ever," said Necheyev. "Do they really think that we are going to meet these exaggerated demands?"

Nakamura smiled thinly. “It's hard to say what they think, Admiral. Maybe they think we will give up these areas to keep the peace, or maybe it's just an attempt to show strength. No matter what it is, the answer is of course no. "

Necheyev frowned. "Do you think they will carry out their threat and try to conquer the systems they want by force?"

Nakumura went to the map showing the border. "Perhaps. They did not suffer as many casualties as we did during the Dominion War, and it looks like the new Praetor pursues a more aggressive policy. If so, we are prepared for it. "

Necheyev clenched her fists for a moment. She was angry and frustrated at the same time. "I'm not looking forward to another war with the Romulan Empire."

“Nobody looks forward to that, Admiral, but we will not make such concessions just to keep the peace. They would interpret it as a weakness and make further demands until a conflict becomes inevitable. "

"I know," said Necheyev with a sigh.

"All of our predictions indicate that when they see that we are firmly fighting back, they will pull back," said Nakamura. "This won't be a long war." He turned to her and his gaze softened. “Everyone will understand if you are tired of these tasks, Alynna. Hardly anyone has done as much for the fleet as you have in recent years. We know the sacrifices you have made and we all appreciate you for it. You have the admiration and respect of our people. If you want to leave this to someone else, your reputation will not suffer. "

Nechyev straightened up, struggling to suppress the indignation that rose within her. She knew the admiral only meant well. She still felt attacked. “I didn't get this post because I have a habit of resting on my laurels. It's not my way to give up responsibility because I'm tired of it. "

Nakamura frowned slightly, and she feared it had sounded a little harsh. "Nobody doubts it," he said. He was silent for a moment. "Your people are in a position to give us advance warning in the event of an attack."

She straightened and nodded curtly.

“I have ordered the seventh and thirteenth fleets to Sigma Draconis. I hereby place them under your command. Don't do anything I wouldn't do too. ” He grinned crookedly, suddenly boyish.

She returned the grin involuntarily, even if she didn't feel like it. "You know you can rely on me."

### Deep Space Nine, 2373

Ziyal sat down on the bed next to him. She had been very pensive ever since she found him in the holosuite. She didn't mention it, but obviously it bothered her. Elim had given up hiding his injuries from her, and sometimes she ran her fingers over his bruises and welts, curious and repulsed at the same time. She did that this time, too, but suddenly she stopped over a particularly ugly bruise over his ribs and pressed her hand on it. Elim gasped in surprise. She watched him curiously. Her hand moved to another bruise at his hip, where she did the same.

"What are you doing?" He asked without moving to stop her. He had started the meditation techniques Raghman had recommended the week before, and they helped a little, but he had gone to the holosuite at his usual time today. He had to admit that he wasn't entirely sure why. It made him feel safe.

She eyed him carefully. "I thought about something Jadzia told me and then read a lot about it."

Elim backed away a little. Ziyal was woefully trusting, and the Trill was excruciatingly curious. What on earth had they been talking about?

Ziyal smiled. “Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone what I learned. I don't talk to anyone about our private affairs, Elim. I wish you had a little more faith in me.” She stroked the ridges on his chest. "I asked her why people cause themselves pain, and of course the first thing she talked about was the Klingons and their barbaric practices." She grinned in amusement, but quickly got serious again. "She also said that some people enjoy pain." She held up a hand when he was about to object.

The conversation suddenly unsettled him. Raghman had once predicted that she would teach him to desire pain, but she hadn't been successful. Everything he had felt then had been artificial, a product of her manipulation. He got over that!

"I know that's not why you're doing it," Ziyal said gently. "You do it to gain control, and maybe also to punish yourself for what you see as weakness."

Elim was shocked at how well she knew him. His shock must have been evident because she laughed. "I'm not a stupid girl, Elim."

"I never thought you were stupid," he said affectionately. "Maybe a little naive, sometimes."

She smiled ruefully. “I suppose that's true. Sometimes I ignore the obvious for a beautiful illusion, but not in this case, Elim. I want to help you. I'm worried that at some point you will seriously injure yourself. "

He stroked her arm soothingly. "You know I'm careful."

"I know. And yet… I thought maybe I could help you. "

"How?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.

She hesitated a moment and took a deep breath. "The stories I read after talking to Jadzia ... about people who enjoy pain ... it's often about control too ..."

Elim sat up in surprise when he realized what she was suggesting. More than that, he suddenly came to a different realization that made him sick. He had wondered why Raghman's touch calmed him more than the pain. It was obvious, but he had suppressed the truth. Control. Suddenly anger rose in him and he hated Raghman with an intensity that stunned himself. It disgusted him how much she had manipulated him, how much she still controlled him. All he wanted was to wipe out her influence once and for all, but how could he when she was in control of his mind? "Yes," he said calmly, forcing himself to be calm. "I listen to you."

She bit her lip nervously. "I thought we could try ... instead of the holosuite ... try a few of the things I read about."

Elim couldn't help but laugh. “It's a cute idea, darling, but I doubt it will work. You are far too gentle to give me what I need. Listen to yourself ... you can't even pronounce it! "

She pressed her lips together, and her gaze gained determination. Elim was once more struck by how beautiful she was. She would never be a beautiful woman in the Cardassian sense, of course, but for Elim her disfigured face was only the outside. It was her innocence and her strong will that gave her an inner beauty. Sometimes he hated Dukat for what he had done to her in his selfishness. What ignorance and cruelty to bring her to Cardassia! Most Cardassians would never see her as anything other than a person who could have been normal if something hadn't gone terribly wrong. It was the essence of an ancient Cardassian phobia, the fear of the abnormal and monstrous, of the disabled, disfigured child. They would never feel anything for her other than disgust and pity. They would never see the woman he loved.

"I can do it if I can help you with it," she said, giving him a serious look. “I don't like this holosuite thing, Elim. It's out of control and there is no one there to help you if something goes wrong. More than that, what if you are seriously injured and someone finds you there? The whole station would know. I don't want to hurt you, but I can cause you pain if that's what you need. "

Elim had to admit that she had good arguments, even if he very much doubted that she would really be able to do what she said. He found himself really wishing it were different. He wished he could replace every thought and memory of Raghman with Ziyal, a woman he loved. If all these memories were erased, maybe he would be free of her at last. "You are very convincing, my dear." He spread his arms. "I have to admit, I couldn't think of a lovelier creature to torture me."

She grinned and sat on top of him. "It's not just about pain, Elim, it's also about control." She opened the drawer on the night console and pulled out a couple of silk scarves. "I figured we could start with something we both enjoy."

Elim looked at her in surprise, even if it was very obvious what she was up to. "My dear, I never thought that you had such fantasies."

She grinned. “I have my dark sides… You are always so dominant. The thought of seeing you submissive ... I have to admit, it excites me. "

"Really?" Elim felt his heart beat faster. He hadn't expected to feel that way. If anything, this situation was supposed to bring back unpleasant memories, but this was different from Raghman. He looked at Ziyal's flushed cheeks and knew that he would never be helpless with her. He crossed his hands at his wrists and held them out to her, and watched with satisfaction as her breathing quickened. “I'm all yours, dear. Do whatever you want with me.“

### Deep Space Nine, 2380

"Something is wrong," said Bashir. "I can't say exactly what, but it felt like our whole conversation was just a game to him."

"You said that before," said Admiral Ross impatiently. As useful as it was, Ross had never liked this so-called friendship between Bashir and this Cardassian. The doctor was generally far too indifferent about Cardassians. Sometimes when you heard him talk you got the feeling that he admired them. Ross preferred his agents to keep their feet firmly on the ground, and admiration for the Cardis was far from being down-to-earth. "You said Garak always plays games with you."

“Yes, but this time something was different. It used to feel like it was a game between the two of us. This time it seemed to me that I was completely unimportant to him, that it was about a bigger game. He also seemed more arrogant to me, more aggressive. Colonel Kira told me that he was completely unimpressed that the trade blockade wasn’t lifted, as if he didn't care. The Garak I knew was a patriot, nothing was more important to him than his people! Why should he be so indifferent when the situation on Cardassia is really as critical as it seems? He told me he wasn't able to answer my letters, but the way he said it ... it felt like a lie, an obvious lie in fact, as if he didn't care that it was obvious to me. He told me he's an archivist!” Bashir gestured wildly to show his indignation.

"You don't believe him?" T'Kris, his Vulcan assistant, managed, like so many Vulcans, to express her skepticism with a seemingly neutral sentence.

"Of course not! Even if he had tried to be believable, I would doubt it! "

"What do you think he is?" asked Ross. "An agent of the new Cardassian secret service?"

Bashir shrugged. He looked like a defiant boy, and only knowing that he needed his talents prevented Ross from kicking him out. "Admiral, for all I know Garak might _be_ the Cardassian secret service."

Commander Miller laughed. Ross shot his second assistant a disapproving look, but felt the corners of his mouth pull up involuntarily. "Don't you think you're reading a little too much into superficial observations?" He asked dryly.

The doctor took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. "If you don't value my opinion ..."

Ross sighed and had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Bashir was so easily offended. His melodramatic tendencies were amusing at times, but today he had little patience for them. Yes, Bashir was useful, but the doctor's arrogance was sometimes nerve-wracking. Just because his parents had a few Adigeons tamper with his DNA didn't mean he was always right.

“I applaud the refreshing way you express your _opinion_ , Doctor. As long as we agree that it is an opinion and not a proven fact. "

Miller gave a dry laugh, and Bashir clenched his fists but controlled himself. "So you don’t think it's strange that he doesn't care what happens to the trade blockade?"

"I don't see why you are so sure about that!" Miller made no effort to hide how little he thought of the doctor's opinion. "It's the opinion of this Bajoran, neither she nor you have the slightest evidence that it is true." He could have said that more tactfully, but Ross hadn't hired Miller because he was tactful.

Bashir gritted his teeth visibly. "Listen, I _know_ Garak and I’m telling you ..."

Ross sighed and cut him off. He really had no more patience for this back and forth. There were so many more important things to do. "Doctor, I am aware of that, and that's why I called you here, but this discussion is wasting our time." He looked at T'Kris.

Bashir was silent, half angry, half confused. A small mercy. Hopefully he'd tell them something more useful today, Ross hated wasting his time.

Fortunately, the Vulcan shared his point of view and, as always, got straight to the point. "Cardassia has made a formal request to the Federation to debate the opening of the trade routes before the Council and your Mr. Garak will be the ambassador to defend their position."

Ross had to admit that he felt an outrageous satisfaction to see the doctor completely speechless for once.

"What?"

"That's why I asked you here, Doctor," Ross said, not quite able to banish satisfaction from his voice. "Since, as you said, you know Garak so well, I would like to hear your thoughts on how he is likely to argue."

Bashir sat down for the first time in this conversation. "That ... that doesn't make the slightest sense!"

This time Ross couldn't contain himself, he gave a short laugh. “As you have so keenly observed, this Cardassian enjoys playing his games with you and he is clearly doing it very well. Please, Doctor, do me a favor and try to regain some objectivity. We know who Mr. Garak is. He works for the diplomatic service of the new Cardassian government, and yes, he is most likely an agent of their intelligence service as well. That's not what I want to know from you. What I want to know is: how will he try to convince the Federation Council to lift the trade embargo? Please, Doctor, concentrate. "

Bashir blinked a few times, then shook his head. "I ... I don't know."

"I thought you knew Garak," Miller said mockingly.

This time his mockery didn't seem to reach Bashir. He shook his head again. “I know he's a patriot. He's an actor, a liar, a brilliant rhetorician, and utterly unscrupulous when cornered. I have no idea how he will represent such an issue before the Federation Council because I don't know if he wants to win this debate at all. If he does, I would assume that he has studied the members of the Council, as well as his opponent in the debate, and that this debate will go down in history as one of the most spectacular losses his opponent has ever suffered. But for all I know, this is just a diversion and his real goal is something completely different. I cannot help you."

Ross smiled contentedly. "Thank you, Doctor. I think you already have.“

### Deep Space Nine, 2375

"I have the feeling lately we are always arguing with each other," said Iro angrily. "What the prophets is your problem?"

Elim enjoyed the anger in the other man's eyes, his quickened breath. Bajorans were so easy to provoke. For a moment he enjoyed the thought of how attractive that made Iro. "I don't know what you mean," he said cheerfully. “I'm just trying to have a conversation. If that's beyond your intellect, it's hardly my fault. "

Iro clenched one hand into a fist, but the next moment he suddenly backed away and stared at Elim as if seeing him for the first time. "Elim, are you flirting with me?"

Elim froze, caught. He had gone too far, he admitted to himself. Dr. Bashir had never noticed what he was doing, and it had been very amusing to unsettle him, but Iro was no ignorant human. He was a Bajoran, more than that, he was an agent of Bajoran Intelligence, and that made him an excellent and well-informed observer. "What? Of course not.” His denial was transparent, and he could see that Iro didn't believe a word he said. The Bajoran was shocked.

"I ... I have to think about that," he said nervously. "Excuse me, Elim." He got up hastily and left.

Elim raised his glass in his direction. He had to admit he was curious to see how this would play out. He liked the Bajoran, and would be sorry if he scared him off. The most likely scenario was that Iro would choose to ignore it, even if it repelled him. He had to do his job after all.

He wasn't sure he regretted making his feelings so obvious. Iro was handsome and intelligent, a challenge. Their friendship might only be an illusion, but it was a beautiful illusion. He hoped he hadn't destroyed it.

.

It was very late in the evening when the doorbell rang. Elim had been absorbed in a book and the sound surprised him so much that he jerked to his feet. He couldn't think of anyone who would come to see him so late, except maybe Bashir, and he would make himself heard loudly. When the door opened without his permission, he took a step back in alarm. He was only wearing a dressing gown as he had been about to go to bed. It crossed his mind that he had become careless. Perhaps he was spending too much time with the human doctor and had finally begun to believe that as a tailor he had no enemies on this station. How fascinating and idiotic.

He was relieved when it was Iro who entered the quarters. The Bajoran paused when he saw him standing in the middle of the room. Then he took a few quick steps and pushed him against the wall. "Say something if I've misinterpreted your behavior," he growled.

"How did you get in here?" asked Elim, avoiding the question. It seemed Iro had decided to take his advances seriously. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Security override." Iro pointed to the brown uniform he was wearing. “Did you forget that I work for this station’s security? It seems you're getting old. "

Elim met the Bajoran's gaze in amusement. Was he trying to provoke him? "Why are you here?"

Iro grabbed the collar of his gown and pulled him towards the bedroom. "What do you think is the reason I'm here?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Elim inhaled the scent of the Bajoran, and was surprised at how saturated with excitement he was. He didn't expect Iro to react to him so violently. He was still half convinced that it was just a trick to gain his trust. However, Iro's physical reactions and the emotions he could sense claimed otherwise. How interesting. Either Iro was a better actor than he thought, or the man was actually interested in him.

As they entered the bedroom, Elim finally gave up his passivity, freed himself from Iro's grip, and grabbed his wrists. He wanted to know how far the man was ready to go. Cardassians had a certain reputation among Bajorans, which suited him. He knew exactly what he wanted from Iro when he got into this, and he wasn't willing to settle for anything less.

“Theory and reality often differ drastically from one another, my dear. I'm giving you this one chance to say no. If you don't go now, I won't hold back any longer. "

Iro took a deep breath and relaxed in his grip. "I hoped you would say that," he replied hoarsely.

Elim released him and took a step back, looking at him. Time to test a theory.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered coolly.

He watched with satisfaction as the Bajoran obeyed. His gaze wandered over the scars that covered Iro's chest. Elim had read the description of the interrogation. It had been carried out by the military, so the report was woefully superficial, but he had been able to guess the gist. Iro's comrades had freed him and killed the soldiers who had interrogated him before they could write the last entry, so Elim did not know whether they had successfully received answers. How interesting that a man with Iro's experience would be willing to sleep with a Cardassian, especially with the expectations he obviously had. Not entirely unusual, but interesting nonetheless.

Elim took off his gown and loosened the belt. Iro followed what he was doing and voluntarily held out his hands as he straightened up, although his posture showed a certain reluctance. Elim had no doubt that Iro knew what he wanted, but obviously the Bajoran still had to bring himself to submit to him. Well. It would have been very boring had it been different. Unlike Raghman, Elim was not interested in a totally submissive partner and would have been very surprised if Iro had been his willing slave.

Elim wound the silk belt around Iros wrists and led him to the bed, where he tied them to the headboard. Iro didn't resist, but his muscles were tense and he was breathing hard. It couldn't be easy for him to allow the leanings he obviously had. It testified to his strength of character that he gave in to them, despite all the cultural taboos that stood in the way. That only made him all the more attractive.

Elim put a hand on Iro's neck and increased the pressure on the artery for a few seconds. "Do you realize what I could do with you?" For a split second he saw fear in Iros eyes, but it turned into pleasure surprisingly quickly. Elim withdrew his hand. “Did you come here because you wanted me to hurt you? Is that something you enjoy? "

Elim hoped that wasn't all of it, but that would be enough for him for the night if it was. He slapped the man when he remained silent. "Answer me."

Anger flared in Iro's eyes and he didn't bother to suppress it. "Yes."

"Good." Elim got up, went to the replicator, and replicated a glass of water.

He looked at the man thoughtfully. Iro was a very handsome Bajoran. It had taken Elim a while to appreciate the exotic beauty of Bajorans and humans, but he did see it now. It was helpful in his work as a tailor and it made his life on the station more comfortable. Iro was physically attractive, but he was also a man who challenged him with his personality. Elim knew enough about the man's past to be intrigued by him, and their conversations only reinforced that feeling. Iro didn't seem the least bit concerned that Elim was Cardassian, or at least he managed to give that impression with ease. He ignored the reactions of his fellow Bajorans when they saw him with Elim, and their connection had apparently not harmed his position on the station, although he did not pretend to his colleagues that he was merely doing his duty. As far as Elim knew, no one on the station was informed that Iro was working for Bajoran intelligence.

Iro's security colleagues had to know that he was a former terrorist, even if they didn't know what exactly he had done in the past. They must have found Iro's friendship with Elim very confusing. Perhaps they suspected there was some hidden intent behind it, and that was why they accepted it. Elim admitted that their friendship baffled him, too, and not only because he knew exactly what Iro had done in the resistance, and therefore had every reason to believe that the man hated Cardassians profoundly. What puzzled him the most was that he didn’t. He could sense Iro's feelings, and the man was obviously enjoying his company and their conversations. Which made it all the more fascinating that Iro had now come to him to let him hurt him.

"Tell me what you want from me," he said, leaning against the wall.

Iro looked at him in disbelief. "Do you need my instructions?"

Elim smiled. "Oh, I have a lot of ideas what to do with you," he said slowly. "More than you can imagine. I want to hear what you imagine first. I am a patient man."

Iro tugged at his bonds. “Are you going to just talk? If so, untie me and I'll go. _I_ am not patient enough for that. "

Elim laughed. “You have given up your freedom to influence what I do. I could read you from my book for the rest of the evening and you couldn't do anything about it. Maybe I should do that. Preloc could be instructive for you. "

Iro stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then laughed and his tension eased. “You are incredible Elim. What I was imagining in my fantasy ... I don't think you want to hear that. It was certainly not very realistic. "

"How interesting." Elim assumed that Iro knew everything about him that Bashir, and thus Starfleet, knew. It wasn't much, but enough to know that he'd interrogated prisoners on behalf of the Obsidian Order. He could guess which way Iro's fantasies had gone if he actually enjoyed pain. A dangerous and unrealistic fantasy, but the Bajoran knew that.

Elim stepped slowly beside the bed and sat on the edge. He put his glass on the bedside table and ran a hand over Iro's chest. The Bajoran followed his movement with intense concentration. Elim enjoyed that. It was always flattering to have someone's complete attention.

He continued to explore Iro's body with his hands until he knew every sensitive area, every erogenous zone as well as he did himself. He had never been with a real Bajoran before, so this was a new experience for him, even if Raghman's reactions had probably been very similar to those of a Bajoran.

"Do you have sexual experiences with Cardassians?" He finally asked. He was very interested in the answer to this question. Certainly he wasn't the first Cardassian Iro found attractive. The man was too comfortable with the feeling for that.

Iro was breathing hard. He had clutched the bar at the head of the bed with both hands. "Yes, but not ... not that way."

"Hmm." A Cardassian would never have openly admitted how Elim's actions aroused him. He would have tried to take control despite his inferior position. Elim could finally understand what fascinated Raghman and Dukat about Bajorans. This mixture of innocence and fighting spirit ... so uncardassian and seductive at the same time.

If Iro had any experience with Cardassians, it was probably with the soldiers who had been stationed on Bajor. These men had hardly been interested in really understanding their Bajoran lovers. Regrettable. They had left the Bajorans under the impression that sex with Cardassians must be painful and brutal. How completely wrong that impression was.

Most Cardassians were hedonists, and that was true of sex as well as anything else. It could of course also be a power game. There were very few sexual taboos between adults. Taboos were limited to everything that had to do with children - the children one had and should have. A legate could keep a dozen whores of all kinds, male and female, without damaging his reputation, as long as he was married and had children - legitimate children. To be unmarried and childless, however, would be detrimental to any career in the long run, and an illegitimate child could ruin the most influential man. For Elim, relationships with men had always been mostly power games, but rarely in a violent manner. Raghman was the first to associate sex with pain and violence, but he had since admitted that he had started enjoying that. Ziyal had taught him that much self-knowledge. Maybe it had something to do with his genetic changes, the fact that he was healing faster and pain intensified the experience. It certainly wasn't something he would have enjoyed before meeting Raghman.

Elim had no intention of causing any pain to Iro today, even if the man claimed to want that. He wanted to dominate him, and it was obvious the Bajoran would let that happen.

He ran his tongue over the inside of Iro's thigh and enjoyed it when the other man groaned and leaned against his touch. The Bajoran tasted salty, which Elim found fascinating. He ran his hands over the damp film on his skin. He had known, of course, that Bajorans sweated when exposed to heat, or physical exertion, or when they were afraid - or when they were aroused, it seemed.

"Please ..." Iro begged.

Elim looked up, a little surprised. "What?"

Iro gasped and licked his lips. "Please, finally fuck me."

Elim grinned, pleased that the Bajoran had given in so quickly. "No, not yet." He licked the man's waist and navel. "I like it when you beg."

### Breman, 2376

Marendrial Denar gasped when Elim slipped between the barriers she tried to build. He had thought it would be more difficult than with Talon, but in truth it was easier. It felt like he had remembered a long forgotten ability. He knew what she wanted, what she hoped, dreamed, feared. He knew her and he knew ...

"There's another way," he said. "A better way."

It was so easy to find the influence in her mind that he knew didn't come from her own thoughts, to grasp it, to transform it, to make it his own. Was this what Raghman felt, had felt since she was a child? No wonder she was intoxicated with her power, that she believed she could do anything she wanted.

He turned away, turning to his own thoughts as if they were a mirror, and now that he knew what he was looking for, it was almost as easy to find what he had been missing all this time.

He fell on his back and laughed. This was the key he was looking for, and he had been looking for it in the completely wrong place. All this time he had already done what he needed without knowing it himself. She had warned him, hadn't she? _It could be interesting to study how this would end_ _._ She had expected him to listen to her. Little had she realized that by then he had already begun to escape her influence. In his attempt to make himself weaker and more submissive, he had done just the opposite. He'd done something she hadn’t expected, he'd faced his fears and conquered her. She had thought him a coward because she had been unable to see why he had really submitted to her in the beginning. Not out of cowardice, but because he wanted to survive. Maybe she didn't understand the difference.

Marendrial and Talon looked down at him. "What's so amusing?" Marendrial asked, confused and obviously unsure whether he was mocking her.

"Freedom," he said. "Freedom is a wonderful thing."

"And dangerous," said Talon.

"Oh yes." He laughed again. "Let's find out exactly how dangerous it can be."


	2. Chapter 2

### USS Crazy Horse, 2379

"I ordered Nozawa in your direction with the fourteenth fleet ," said Ross. “Just in case you need assistance. I hope this is not a problem for you. "

Necheyev knew it was a sensible precaution, even if she felt resentment that he had gone over her head. She gritted her teeth and smiled wolfishly. “Not in the least, Admiral. Thanks for the help, even if I'm optimistic we won't need it. You can never be too careful. "

Ross smiled back. “You can rely on Tsugio, Alynna. He is a good strategist and an experienced diplomat. Don't be afraid to ask him for advice if things get difficult. "

Her eyes narrowed a little. She had always disliked Ross. She didn't like what he implied. "I'll keep that in mind." She cut the connection and frowned. She had nothing against Rear Admiral Tsugio Nozawa. He had successfully commanded a few minor disputes in the Dominion War, and had neither distinguished himself with particular brilliance nor serious errors. That was all she knew about him. She didn't quite understand the benefit Ross was hoping for from his assistance, but she wouldn't turn down another fleet.

### Lakarian, 2378

As Elim materialized in front of the entrance of the house, he was already wondering whether he had made the right decision. Raghman's property was in the suburbs of Lakarian. The area here was mountainous and inhospitable, and before it had been rebuilt it had housed a penitentiary and a few run-down houses. Now there were new houses, a school, and an orphanage next to Raghman's estate. Elim had to admit that the view of the city from this vantagepoint was impressive. The new Lakarian stretched beneath him like a sea of lights. He could see the towers and bridges, and the ships moving on the river towards the ocean. It was late in the evening and too dark to see the water, but you could see the lighthouses on the coast. The city seemed within reach, but the truth was the terrain made it impossible to access the city by land vehicles let alone on foot. You needed a shuttle or a transporter to get to the town.

Raghman had sent him an invitation to dinner, and he had thought long and hard about accepting it. An invitation to her private estate after their last discussion! Elim hadn't spoken to her directly since she left Breman. In the meantime the Obsidian Order had officially resumed its activities and had begun to rebuild its destroyed facilities. During the same time, Raghman had set up a new committee to advise the Detapa Council. The Enotapa Commission consisted of selected representatives from a wide variety of social areas - justice, trade, craft, science, art, medicine and the military. Its official job was to work out legislative proposals that the Detapa would then discuss. What it actually did was write Cardassia's new legislation, which Raghman's followers in the Detapa waved through. So far they had acted sensibly, but Elim watched them warily. One day they would not be satisfied with changing the university curriculum, he was sure of that.

However, the people loved the idea. They felt they were better represented by these so-called experts than by their elected politicians in the Detapa Council, and it gave them the illusion that they were no longer ruled by Central Command. There were still voices calling for democracy, but they had grown quiet. After all, the current system worked so much better than the old one, which had only produced anarchy.

Elim shook his head and walked down the stone path to the front door of the house. He was a little surprised when Raghman personally opened the door for him. She wore a robe that was traditionally worn by residents of the Ika region. Elim had forgotten that her family originated from this region. When she recognized him, she smiled as if they were old friends. “Elim, how nice that you could come! Please come in."

She led him down the hall into a large dining room. Elim wasn't sure what to expect, but the room was surprisingly tastefully designed. Paintings by classical artists hung on the walls, and large windows looked out over the lamp-lit garden. A big table in the middle of the room was set for a large number of guests, but apparently they were still waiting for the rest of the guests, because those already present were still mingling on the sides of the room and talking.

An Orion slave was walking around handing out drinks. Raghman had been quick to legalize the enslavement of non-Cardassians again after she had taken over the government, largely unnoticed. Elim had still been in Breman at the time. He thought it was tasteless, but he knew it wouldn't face much resistance even if it had become more popular.

Raghman led him to the group closest to them. "You probably know Dr. Lokar, he is one of our greatest physicists, and the chairman of the Enotapa. Legate Lasselle of the First Order, and Castellan Garan. This is my good friend Elim Garak, he works for the diplomatic service."

Elim gave a hint of a bow. "I am honored to be faced with such a select selection of the best servants of our people." Three of the most influential Cardassians of the day, representatives of organizations which were not usually friendly by nature.

The doorbell rang and Raghman apologized to greet their next guest. "What exactly are you doing for the diplomatic service, Mr. Garak?" Garan asked. Her question was reflected in the faces of the other two, they wondered what he was doing here.

A quick glance told him that these three guests were not the exception. He saw other members of the Enotapa and the Detapa Council, as well as some of the leading Antamon. By far the most interesting faces, however, were the ones he didn't recognize. “Oh, nothing of great importance, I'm afraid. It's mainly office work, some days I feel like an archivist. "

It had been the wrong answer, as Elim realized immediately, for the gazes of all three immediately became suspicious. They saw through his lie immediately. Lasselle smiled like a predatory fish. "Interesting. And what is it that you are really doing? "

Elim eyed the three. Lokar was a stout, gray-haired man who gave the impression that he was very fond of his Kanar. He was, as Raghman had said, one of Cardassia's leading physicists, but it was not just his talent that had enabled him to keep his comfortable post as head of the University of Culat through all past governments. Rakena Garan, the leader of the Detapa Council, was a short, gray-haired woman whose inner strength was obvious. She was a pragmatist. Elim knew she had been part of the dissident movement that had once overthrown Central Command, but she had only been a minor follower and so had escaped Dukat's notice. Nowadays she only used the word democracy with a good dose of skepticism. Legate Lasselle had not escaped Dukat, on the contrary. He had been a Gul when Dukat took power and had been an enthusiastic advocate. Later, however, he had changed his mind and had joined Damar's resistance. Now he was its most prominent survivor. A tall, lean man who was wearing his uniform even here. All of them weren't here because they had been lucky. He tried fleetingly to read their minds and failed with all three.

“Mostly, I'm an old friend of Raghman's, even though she has talked about making me an ambassador a few times. Believe me or not, that's my answer. "

"Elim!" He turned and was surprised to see Iliana Ghemor. She was now officially a Gul, and captain of a Hareki class B ship in the fifteenth order. She was one of the few people who looked good even in uniform. This evening, however, she wore a dark blue dress with purple accents, which emphasized her natural beauty wonderfully. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited." He turned to his three interlocutors. "You may know Gul Ghemor."

"You are Alon Ghemor's cousin, aren't you?" Garan said, giving Iliana a measuring look.

Iliana's neck turned dark. "The last time I saw Alon he was eight years old and was playing with puppies," she replied. “He was one of my favorite cousins back then. Things have changed."

"Indeed they have."

For a moment there was an awkward silence.

"I heard he grew up to be a very charismatic man," Elim said then. “Tell me, how exactly do you know Mr. Ghemor again, Castellan Garan? Haven’t you been close once? "

There had been a time when Meya Rejal and her allies had considered Alon Ghemor a good friend.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Garan replied stiffly.

Before the conversation got any worse, they were distracted by Raghman, who entered with other guests. It took a moment, but then Elim recognized the white-haired old man who had taken her arm. Korat Maher had been one of the richest men on Cardassia when Elim was young, and neither war nor unrest had affected his position. His companies made holoprograms, 2D films, and theater productions. He owned some of Cardassia's best-known orchestras as well as several of the most successful sports teams. At the same time, he had managed to never get so caught up in the propaganda machine as to attract enemies. His ever-generous gifts may have helped politicians see it that way. The two young women who accompanied him were the best evidence of his immunity. One was his wife, the other his lover. Both were tall and slim, both had waist-length black hair, and their evening dresses were by the same designer. They could have been sisters. Maher had been divorced several times, but had come to an amicable agreement with all of his former wives. Each of them had received a generous severance payment to make way for a much younger successor. He had more than thirty children now, and more grandchildren, some of them older than his current wife. Those scandals would have ruined another man, but Maher enjoyed his reputation.

Joining them were two of his stars, Juvin Mandlin, one of the best players on Maher's Sotra team, and Doyel Alaymor, a gifted harpist. Mandlin was a muscular giant who easily towered over everyone else in the room. Alaymor was his complete opposite. She was a petite, maidenly woman, and the white dress she wore made her look even more delicate. The other three new guests were a man and two women with shiny black hair and crystal blue eyes, all three of them embodiment of the Cardassian ideal. Elim didn't know if Maher paid them too, but they were very well-known dancers who had performed for Dukat and before him for many other influential men and women.

"We're still waiting for two more guests, but they've already let me know they'll be a little late," said Raghman. "Please take a seat. Suna, Kaitra and Palin have generously agreed to give us a performance while we wait."

The guests quickly spread around the table, and somehow Iliana and Elim lost sight of the three people they had been talking to and took a seat between a few business people and other politicians. Almost everyone at the table seemed excited about the performance, and Elim had to admit that he was curious too. He had never seen the three of them dance before, but their performances were famous. There were some 2D recordings, but they always refused to let holocams run. While the guests were seated, the dancers had briefly disappeared into one of the back rooms, and when they came back they had changed. One of Raghman's slaves had brought a harp, and a murmur rose as it became clear that Alaymor would be playing.

Before long, however, there was an expectant silence.

Elim had heard Alaymor play before, and he knew how good she was. This time she had chosen a very classic piece that was said to date back to the Hebitian era. It was a fantastic piece, played to perfection, full of the dark, rich sounds of Cardassian music. Elim had always loved this music and only now did he realize how much he had missed it. Sure, musical performances were not rare on Terok Nor, but the musicians usually played human or Bajoran music - or worse, Vulcan - the appeal of which he had never really understood. Maybe because he couldn't hear a lot of the high-pitched sounds these races loved so much anyway.

The three dancers had dressed in costumes that had been popular in the Ika region a few centuries ago, probably for Raghman's sake. The long, silk robes caressed the women's bodies. The man wore a short tunic that showed off his perfect build. All three were exceptionally beautiful. However, it was their dance that made it clear why they had become so famous. Takhalya had emerged from Takha'leen, an ancient martial art that had been banned when Ika was conquered centuries ago. The vanquished had converted their martial arts into a dance to circumvent the ban and pass their art on to their children in the hope of one day regaining their country. A vain hope, but both their martial art and dance had survived.

Elim had learned Takha'leen himself once, during his training in the Order. Not only because it was a very efficient and deadly martial art, but also because the Takhalya was popular among dissidents. A good agent was expected to recognize the dance for what it was and to be able to face a takha'leen'ka. There were similar dances, often used to hide what was actually being danced, but both Takhalya and Takha'leen had long been forbidden to civilians. Meya Rejal had abolished the ban and Dukat had immediately reinstated it. A prohibition that, unless Elim was very much mistaken, was still in effect. And yet, here three civilians danced Takhalya in front of the leaders of their people - a Takhalya that was so perfect and beautiful that it was clear that they were masters of the art.

It was a pleasure to watch them, even if Elim half felt they were all guilty of treason.

The three ended the performance by all throwing something at the audience. Elim caught the object out of the air without thinking before it could hit him. It was a Mireshka card. He turned it over and saw that it was the Regnar. All the cards in Mireshka were unique and had their own meaning. The Regnar was one of the best cards in the game, but it took another card or two to win against any other hand. When he looked up he met Raghman's amused look. Smiling, she held up the card they had thrown her - the Sagorn. Another good card that was on par with the Regnar. Elim looked around to find out who got the third card. Nobody, as it turned out. The third card was stuck with a corner in the middle of the table. It was the middleman, a card of no value in itself, but the only one that would have won both his card and Raghman's card victory if combined with it.

Elim turned the card in his hand. It seemed to be made of paper, but paper didn't burry into Duranium that easily. Closer inspection revealed that it contained a layer of synthetic Romulan metal in the center. If he hadn't caught it flat between his palms, he'd probably be missing a few fingers ... or a more important part of his body. He carefully placed the card on the table in front of him. "Thank you for this interesting gift," he said to the dancers. "However, I wish you had given it to Dukat while performing for him."

The man grinned. “We would have been executed and the Dominion would have found a new fool. A very unfortunate ending for such a beautiful performance, don't you think? "

"We danced the Siltar for him, to Forantak's Opus 14," said one of the women dreamily, leaning against her partner. "Is there a more fitting ending to the traditional tragedy than madness?" She laughed.

"Besides, it wasn't a present for you," said the second woman. “This gift was for the rest of you, dear guests of our honored Gul-tar. We're all players here, after all, and the game is so much more interesting when everyone knows the board."

The three bowed. Raghman's smile was gone when they straightened up. Apparently she lacked humor when the joke was at her expense. Elim suddenly laughed. All of a sudden this evening had become much more interesting. When he got here, he had thought he was being presented with a parade of Raghman's puppets. Good to know it wasn't that easy. He started to clap and gradually the rest of the audience joined in, even Raghman.

"No matter what Kaitra suggests, we all know that this game is much bigger than two people," she said.

“Who is this man?” Asked a woman unknown to Elim. She was already older.

Maher giggled. "Can't you see the resemblance, Kalla?" He had an old voice, high but penetrating. “This is Enabran's son. Some, I suspect, call him his heir."

Lokar stood up abruptly. "Is that true?"

Raghman twisted the card between her fingers. "That was not very friendly of you, Korat."

"I don't feel like experiencing a new version of your obsession with Tain!" Lokar thundered angrily. “Once was enough! The gods know that Cardassia almost didn't survive it!"

Raghman looked up angrily. "Are you saying you blame me for what happened?"

"I say you've wasted our time long enough!"

"We don't appreciate being used as pawns in any of your games," said Maher's wife Irynna. Her tone of voice made it clear that she wasn't just a pretty addition. "I'm sure not everyone here would have agreed to invite the Obsidian Order to this table."

"Perhaps. But I thought it was overdue.” Raghman looked up at Lokar. “Sit down, Thirugn. Enabran is a thing of the past. Elim and I have no such differences. We are friends.” She spread her hands. "We are all friends here."

Lokar reluctantly sat down. Elim toasted Raghman. What a fantastic and bold lie.

She raised her glass. “This is not the time to argue, friends. This is the time to celebrate! We can finally get together here! The new age we have all hoped for has finally arrived! Don't look back to the past. Look forward! To Cardassia!"

It was obviously a toast that couldn't be refused, so all those present raised their glasses, some reluctantly, and returned it.

Immediately afterwards the slaves began to serve the food and the argument was settled for a few minutes.

"So it is you who rebuilt the Order," said Iliana. "Are you really Tain's son, or was that meant metaphorically?"

The offer was tempting. It had always been his greatest secret. Sitting at a table with two people who knew the truth - and Elim had no doubt that Maher knew what he was saying - was both terrifying and uplifting. Should he deny it? In the end, he decided against it. As for her first statement? He thought it best to ignore it. If he denied it, she would only press it. "It's completely literal, unfortunately." He noticed that several others at the table were listening in on their conversation. "I can't say I miss him." He resolutely filled his plate. The dishes were traditional and from the region. Elim avoided the fish soup, which he had never particularly liked, and instead resorted to roasted cereals, vegetables, and braised paspa meat. The food on Cardassia had gotten better lately. The synthetic foods were gradually replaced by the first yields of the cultivable areas. Paspa was a relic from a time when meat of any kind was scarce on Cardassia, but he liked the taste. Most of the other guests, however, chose the more exotic sea fish, which had only recently been recovered from the oceans.

Cardassia's oceans had long been too toxic to produce edible fish. The same was true of the aquatic plants and the tropical fruits. Long ago, Cardassia's continents had been rich in rainforests, but war and over-farming had turned them into deserts. Now the old flora returned in some regions, bringing with it fruits that most of them only knew from legends. He saw some of these plants in Raghman's garden. Man-high grass with broad, glittering leaves. Ferns that reached the top of the house. Palm trees hung with fruit. Luminous orchids. These plants would not have survived in this region years ago, but the climate on Cardassia was changing. With the disappearance of the deserts, the weather became less extreme and wetter. A few weeks ago it had rained in the capital. People had run out into the streets and stared at the sky as if it were a miracle.

"I have to admit, that's a little shocking," the woman sitting next to him interrupted his thoughts. "I was always convinced Corian would carry her vendetta against Tain into the seventh generation."

"I never really found out what Enabran did to make her hate him so," Elim said, slightly amused. "Granted, he wasn't a man who was hard to hate."

"I conclude that you speak from experience?" The cool blue eyes of the gray-haired woman studied him.

"Oh, definitely." He had loved his father as much as he had hated him. A lie that wasn't even a lie. “He did his best to make our world and himself forget that I ever existed. To be his greatest disappointment is the most significant achievement of my life."

The woman eyed him thoughtfully. “My name is Sendrin Zakhal. I am a doctor. During the occupation of Bajor, I worked there for your father. Amongst other things."

"Dr. Zakhal.” Elim smiled thinly. You couldn't tell from looking at this kind elderly lady how many Bajorans she'd killed. "I've read your studies, they are extremely enlightening."

“These experiments were an obscenity,” Zhakal replied icily. “Back then, of course, I saw it differently. I realized far too late what a monster I had become. I thought I was serving Cardassia and science. In reality I was ruled by madness, a madness celebrated by our society. Your father welcomed that."

Elim sighed. “Tain thought himself infallible. This belief cost him and many other Cardassians their lives."

"He did his best to prevent the Cardassian renewal that we are trying to achieve," said a man seated a little further down the table. Elim knew him from the news, his name was Endar Jasad. He was one of the loudest spokespeople for the conservative wing of the Detapa. Surprisingly young for this company, but Iliana Ghemor wasn't the only younger person at the table. Some of them were Antamon, but there were also Maher's wives, and some politicians like this one. "I'm sure you can understand that some of us have a hard time believing that you are different."

"My only motivation is the good of Cardassia," Elim replied. "A goal we all seem to agree on."

"I trust our definition of that goal is the same." The man who spoke was Elim's age. A short but surprisingly handsome man with dark blue eyes that took on a purple tinge in the dim lighting of the room. Elim couldn't remember how he met him.

"Etan Dareek," said the man at Elim's questioning gaze. "It's been a long time since we last saw each other."

From one moment to the next Elim remembered how he knew the man and he froze. Gul Dareek had been responsible for Inalim Nor, the ore processing station supplied by Mantissek. They had seen each other, indeed. In subspace communications when Raghman was talking to Dareek while Elim was still in a room with her. "I remember," he said hoarsely. Dareek knew what he had been then, little more than Raghman's slave.

The gul grinned good-naturedly. “It's hard to believe how much has changed since then, isn't it? Who would have thought then that Corian would one day be Gul-tar!"

It surprised Elim that he liked the man. He had always thought of Dareek as a more harmless version of Dukat. Raghman had always made fun of his fondness for Orion slaves, and Inalim Nor had been a very efficient station for keeping prisoners working in ore processing. However, he did not sense any hostility from Dareek. He couldn’t read the gul’s mind any more than anyone elses in the room, but he could perceive his feelings and intentions. Dareek hadn't intended to embarrass him, and he regretted the reaction he'd got with his thoughtless remark. This man had nothing in common with Dukat.

"Indeed," he said.

Several guests at the table looked up, and Elim turned to see what had caught their attention. It were the last two guests who had just entered. The two men were indeed worth a look. The biggest surprise was the second man who was a Bajoran - or at least looked like a Bajoran. The first to enter was a tall man with long hair and yellow-green eyes. The sight of his gaudy clothes was an insult to Elim's tailor's eyes. As an agent of the Obsidian Order, he recognized Rikkon Hoyt, a notorious pirate and smuggler. Hoyt had limited his activities to the border areas in Elim's time, and so the Order had liked to look the other way. Hardly anyone cared about a few missing Federation or Klingon freighters, on the contrary.

The Bajoran, if he was that, wore the clothes of a typical Bajoran civilian. He was older, brown-haired, and gaunt. A scar disfigured the left side of his face, as if a disruptor beam had scorched him.

"Rikkon, Yinsen!" said Raghman, getting up. “I am glad that you came. Sit down, please."

Hoyt walked up to her and hugged her, then sat down next to her. The Bajoran-looking man merely nodded and found a seat at the other end of the table, closer to Elim and Iliana. Yinsen was a Cardassian name, which at least suggested that the man wasn't actually Bajoran. A second clue was the way he was immediately was engaged in a conversation with the woman he was sitting next to. She was a woman Elim was unfamiliar with, but her elegant clothing suggested she was wealthy. She wasn't a politician or he would have recognized her, and she wasn't a member of one of the more prominent Cardassian families.

"Now that we are complete, we can finally move on to the business portion of this meeting," said Raghman. “I am glad to see you all here. We have already achieved a lot in the last few months. "

"It's not nearly enough," said Garan. "We are only at the beginning."

Raghman nodded. "I agree." She looked at one of the Antamon, a young woman with long brown hair. "Dr. Gavron?"

"The renaturation of Cardassia is going as planned," said the woman. She had a cool, uninvolved voice that was reflected in her pale blue eyes. “We have all the resources we need and we believe that we will finish most of the work by the end of this year. It will take a few years for all changes to stabilize, and during that time we must expect storms, earthquakes and floods, but my people assure me that they are predictable. Establishing the infrastructure in the big cities will still take a while, even though we're almost done in Lakarian and the capital. The smaller settlements are already regenerating on their own, but I think it is advisable to train the farmers carefully."

"We are in the process of introducing some new laws that will regulate agriculture in our favor," interjected Lokar. "It will mean a change for the farmers, but I am sure they will adapt."

"Good," said the woman. “We don't want to face the same problem again in a few decades. It is not child's play to accumulate the resources for such extensive regeneration."

"The renstoration of our fleet is also proceeding, although not at the speed we had hoped for," added another Antamon, a stocky young man with a quiet intensity. “All of our shipyards are running at full capacity, but the old yards are still busy with repairs. In addition, sooner or later our ressources will run out. The rubble collectors are doing a good job, but we're missing dilithium."

"Another problem is the staff," said a legate sitting a little further down from Raghman. Sandar Meren was in command of the second order. Raghman had installed him after his predecessor had been executed for treason, one of the few military men who had refused to change sides until the end. Meren, with the assistance of a few other guls, had started a mutiny and taken command instead of opening fire on Cardassian ships as his superior had ordered. “With our present progress, we will soon have more ships than officers to command them. Half of our current strength are conscripts waiting to be released from the service."

"I am aware of the problem," said Raghman. “We will initially have to make do with a minimal crew. Parts of the existing crews should be transferred and promotions accelerated. Our soldiers who fought in this war deserve the promotion, and they all have sufficient combat experience."

"It's the command experience they lack," Meren contradicted. "We cannot give command of a ship to men who have never led an away team."

"I trust the assessment of the commanding officers who made the recommendations." Raghman's look said that she considered the subject closed. Meren was obviously not happy with it, but he said nothing. "What are the best potential sources for dilithium?"

“The asteroids in the Bryman Nebula are rich in dilithium, but much of this area has been claimed by the Federation. So far we have not been given a permit to mine it,” said the woman with whom Yinsen had spoken.

“The instability of this sector would lead to a rate of loss of workers that we cannot absorb at the moment,” said another legate. "Unless you have an alternative suggestion for dealing with this problem, Mrs. Lomossok?"

Now Elim finally knew who the tall woman was. Janika Lomossok was Retar Lomossok's widow, and his heiress. The Dominion had the man executed when his ore mining facilities could no longer meet the quotas they had set. The end of the war had saved Janika from the same fate.

"We have been supplementing our workers with slaves from the Syndicate for months," Lomossok replied coolly. “We've kept it under wraps so far because we weren't sure what the public reaction would be. However, it shouldn't be difficult to expand this practice."

"You are getting your permit," said Raghman. "I guess that won't be enough?"

The man next to her shook his head.

"The moons of the Katran system are rich in dilithium," said Hoyt. “The Tzenkethi do not mine it because they use a different propulsion system than we do. The same applies to several systems in the Breen territorium."

"I will propose making this part of our alliance contract with the Tzenkethi. As for other drive systems..."

“We don't have a working prototype yet,” said another Antamon. Elim recognized him from a picture he had seen once, it was Torun Prelar, the husband of the doctor who had removed his implant. “The organic technology on which the Hareki class is based is incompatible with the Romulan system, and all other systems we are working on are only just beginning. The best we can do is make the drives more efficient. Unfortunately, we will still need the same amount of Dilithium, as the energy consumption of the new ships is significantly higher than that of the Galor class."

"We need either the Breen territory or the territories that we have lost to the Federation," said another legate. "Given our current fleet size, I think Breen is the better option."

"I agree," said Legate Lasselle.

Raghman's gaze wandered over the table. "Are there any others here who agree with Harkon?"

"I'm not sure what we're talking about," Garan said. "Is this about an alliance or a takeover?"

"An alliance?" Lasselle exclaimed indignantly. "With the Breen?" A few guests at the table laughed.

"I think we all agree that an alliance with the Breen is out of the question," said Raghman with a smile.

"We are still recovering from the last war and you want to start a new one?" Protested the Castellan. "We have just discussed the fact that the military is understaffed."

"No one here has any intention of starting another protracted war." Raghman exchanged a look with the legates. “If we do decide to attack Breen, it has to be a precise and efficient takeover with minimal losses. Our new ships are superior to the Breen’s, especially since we now know the specifications of their energy weapons. "

"The Klingons tried that years ago and failed," said a man at the other end of the table skeptically. "The Breen are formidable opponents."

"The Klingons didn't know them as well as we know them," Lasselle replied. "We know most of the Breen species and their vulnerabilities, and we are familiar with their technology."

“The Silwaan and Amoniri territories are closest to ours. The Paclu may be ready to make a non-aggression pact once we have conquered them. The Amoniri need their cooling technology to leave their planet, and the Silwaan are one of the weaker races."

Hoyt shook his head. “The Paclu will never sign a pact while we occupy part of the Breen territory. The Breen Federation is centuries old, they now see themselves as a single people. Either we totally conquer it, or this will be exactly the kind of war we don't want."

"I suggest we focus on the Katran system first," said Dareek, trying to mediate. "Some of us could mention the suggestion about Breen to Central Command, I'm sure most legates will like the idea. Still, we should wait a while until our armed forces are better equipped."

Raghman thought for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Can we agree on that?"

Some nodded and none protested. Raghman obviously interpreted this as approval. 

"Have the new regulations that I introduced last week been implemented?"

"In the first, second, and fourth orders, and orders from the thirteenth onwards," Lasselle replied. The latter orders had arisen from the Antamon, and their legates were former Antamon. Elim had been a little surprised that Iliana hadn't been made a legate, but her name was probably too much of a stigma.

Raghman leaned back and pursed her lips. “Have we recently become a democracy in the military? I do not expect any discussions about such instructions."

Lasselle looked away. “These changes are not that easy to accept, Gul-tar. The legates in these orders claim that it will take a while to retrain their people and that they lack the resources. "

Raghman's fingers tapped the table. "I think I have to take care of it personally." She looked at Dareek. "I would have expected the third order not to have such problems."

Dareek raised his hands. "I do not have authority over the order, that is Legate Kallas."

"You should have it."

“You know I'm not interested in becoming legate,” Dareek replied angrily. "Besides, I like Kallas."

"Then make sure that he implements my orders, otherwise I'll do it myself."

Dareek pressed his lips together. "I'm doing my best, Gul-tar."

"You should too," said Raghman, a little angry. “I don't expect such problems from my subordinates, this insubordination is unacceptable. If this situation persists, I will have no problem using my powers under the new regulations to the full. "

"You cannot discipline the legates," Iliana said beside him, horrified. "They will rebel."

"They will obey their orders or they will face the consequences," Raghman protested icily. “We need commanding officers for the new ships? Wonderful, it seems we have some volunteers."

Elim followed this discussion with a certain curiosity. He knew that a week earlier, Raghman had abolished many of the privileges of higher ranking military officers, especially legates. This was very beneficial to the order, as they had never really liked the legates' immunity. In addition, she had introduced new disciplinary guidelines that were intended to curb the prevailing arbitrariness in disciplinary measures. It suddenly occurred to him that under the new rules the Order was no longer forbidden to monitor the houses of the legates. Wasn’t that then also true of Raghman's house? What a fascinating thought.

A group of conspirators sat here discussing their plans for Cardassia, and Raghman had invited him for some inexplicable reason. Did she want his approval for this conspiracy? So far, his only intention was to make the surveillance of all of these people a top priority. Nothing they discussed here was strictly speaking illegal, but Elim had no doubt that they were involved in illegal activities. These people were dangerous and he had no intention of leaving Cardassia's future to them.

The man to Raghman's right put a hand on her arm. “I'm sure they will see reason, Corian. The chaos of the war confused everyone a little. They test their limits. If they notice that such behavior will not be tolerated, they will adapt quickly enough."

Elim looked at the man with renewed interest. He was an Antamon, and Elim had seen him before on Sandun, but had not known he was so close to Raghman. "Who is that?" He asked Iliana softly.

"Kalidas Raskal," she muttered. "He was one of the agents of the Order on Bajor, one of the youngest, and one of the first Antamon."

Elim could sense that Raskal was a telepath, so Raghman had genetically enhanced him. One of the telepaths who hadn't joined the Order. Elim knew there were some of them, although most had chosen the Order.

Raghman put a hand on Raskals and was silent for a moment. "As you say," she said then. “Maybe then we should talk about something else instead. Recently there has been talk of free elections again."

"I have no doubt that if we let the people vote, I'll be re-elected," said Garan. “I think it would be good for public morale. The infrastructure is now stable enough, and as far as I know, the Order has all elements that could cause unrest under control. "

Raghman looked at him. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Elim replied simply. He enjoyed the reaction that got from the others present. Just a single word, but it was enough to bring back all the old fear. He smiled thinly. That power was seductive and his father had enjoyed it too much. It had brought him no luck. One of the reasons Elim did not officially emerge as head of the order. People who knew he was not just a diplomatic employee usually thought he was a secondary agent of the Order and therefore did not take him very seriously.

There were also those, like Maher, who suspected who he really was. Elim didn't particularly like that, not just because it made him a target for assassins. Some might want to kill him, but more might want to bribe him, ingratiate themselves with him, or persuade him to give them some political or other advantage. He wondered what Raghman wanted. Maybe all of these things.

Elim accepted that both Garan and Raghman were superior to him due to their positions, but only to a limited extent. Officially, the order was subordinate to the Gul-tar as well as to the Castellan, but unofficially, Tain had not felt accountable to anyone. Alon Ghemor had wanted to change that and, on the former Castellan's orders, had destroyed much of the remaining official Order. Elim preferred the middle ground. He would make sure that Central Command and the Detapa got the information they needed, that was one of the tasks of the Order after all. The internal affairs of the Order, however, would remain internal, and he would see to it that the Order remained independent.

As for Raghman's question, there were no troublesome elements. There were a number of individuals who had tried to stir up the people, but so far they had been unsuccessful. Cardassia was getting more beautiful every day, the citizens had food, work, entertainment, and more freedom than in the past ten years. There was no need to revolt.

“All right, let them choose. Perhaps it would make sense to extend the Detapa cycle again to ten years; that gives us some leeway for unpopular decisions.”

Garan nodded. “Most of the MPs will vote for it out of self-interest. They know that in a few years their popularity will not be as high as it is now."

"Are we planning unpopular decisions?" Asked the male dancer, amused.

"The ban on abortion and the change in marriage legislation, on the one hand."

Maher grinned. “Saladine wants a child, and I'm not ready to part with my lovely Irynna yet. Still, Cardassia needs children, as we all know. "

"All the children," Raghman pointed out. "We need more orphanages and laws that prevent discrimination against the familyless."

"That _will_ be unpopular."

"But necessary." Raghman looked at Raskal. "Besides, there is Bajor."

"We should re-annex Bajor instead of negotiating with them," said one of the legates. "An alliance won't work, you will see."

Raghman leaned back and studied him. "I'll only say that once," she said then. “As long as I am Gul-tar, Bajor will not become a protectorate of Cardassia again. We form an alliance or we leave the planet alone."

"You can't mean that," said the legate angrily. "We need access to the Bajoran space."

Raghman nodded. “I am aware of that. So we will have to convince the Bajorans of an alliance. I don't care how.” Her gaze rested briefly on Elim. “I understand that it will cost us concessions and that many people will not like it. I don't care.”

"Good luck with that," replied the legate. "They won't thank you, believe me."

Raghman gave a fleeting smile. “I know your opinion, Arken. We have to agree to disagree.”

They continued their discussion for a while. Elim studied the guests while Raghman talked. They were all influential men and women, and little by little he learned their names if he did not already know them.

To Raghman's right sat Raskal, the young Antamon who seemed to have some influence on her. To her left sat Maher, the sly old businessman, and next to him was his cool young wife. Next to Raskal sat Pereil Gavron, the Antamon scientist whose team supervised the terraforming. Next to her sat Torun Prelar, who as an engineer supervised the technical developments of the Antamon. These three were very likely the most influential Antamon at the moment.

Lower down at the table on their side sat Legate Meren, and next to him the three dancers. Suna was the man's name, the cooler of the two women was Kaitra, and the smaller was Palin. The older woman who had spoken at the beginning sat even further down. That was Archon Kalla Ocet. Raghman had made her head of the Justice Department. Next to her sat Legate Harkon Gachhayat, Commander of the Fourth Order. He was the one who had first suggested an attack on the Breen. A legate of the old guard who had long been a member of the Central Command.

Next to him sat an old man who hadn't said anything so far. Iliana told him his name was Akilas Pran, but all she knew was that he had known Raghman for a very long time. Next to him was Dr. Eknaar, one of the doctors who had monitored the genetic enhancements on Sandun. Elim had spoken to him a few times on Sandun. Eknaar was an older, likeable man who had never told him how he got to the Antamon. In any case, he wasn't a former agent of the Order, and he was too old to have been one of the orphans.

On the other side of the table were Hoyt, Lokar, Lasselle and Garan, Maher's mistress Saladine Matur, Mandlin and Alaymor, Legate Arken Sorval of the Twentieth Order, Lomossok, Yinsen, and two members of the Detapa liberal wing, Nihal Danek and Elain Pradesh. Next to them, and across from Elim and Iliana, was Aken Merkat, an economist who was a member of the Enotapa.

Next to him sat Joren Arrak, an old, stout man who had been an archon in Tain's day. He had paid little attention to the discussions at the table. Quite the opposite of the man next to him, Cyron Tahiri. Tahiri's company developed computer systems for private users, as well as the encryption codes used by the military. Elim had never spoken to him personally, but the Order had several agents in the company. Tahiri hadn't turned those he knew about in to Ghemor, which Elim appreciated. The man had shown himself loyal to the Order, so it was a certain disappointment to see him at this table.

The gaunt man next to him, Prak Mehroul, owned a pharmaceutical and medical technology company, a company that was almost ruined during the war when the military could no longer finance it. After that, however, it had become the market leader almost out of nowhere. Elim suspected that most of his developments in recent years were based on Antamon technology.

The woman next to him, Eval Maremma, was a spokeswoman for the conservative wing of the Detapa. Next to her sat Dareek, and next to him Jasad and Zhakal.

While this wasn't the puppet show Elim had expected to begin with, it was clear that the people at this table viewed Raghman as their leader. It wasn't always clear if that was because she was Gul-tar or for some other reason, but it was true. She had the last word in all discussions, even if she made some concessions. Was that worrying?

Less than he expected. One of the reasons for this was surely that Elim had always known that Raghman was influencing Cardassian politics. He had known she had people in the right positions to represent her interests. Now these people had names and faces. Elim had already suspected a number of them - the legates, all of them. Lokar, Ocet, Lomossok, Mehroul. Garan was a surprise, Elim had hoped she would be independent. Tahiri was a bitter disappointment. Maher was the most dangerous of them, the man having more influence than was good for a civilian. It had also proven very difficult to infiltrate his company, the man having an almost unnatural sense of who was an agent of the Order. Some he'd told it straight to the face before firing them.

Elim regarded him and his wives thoughtfully. An unnatural feeling, or help. Both women were the right age to be Antamon, and they shielded each other so well that he seriously considered that they were both telepaths. Agents of the Order learned to shield themselves, but that alone might make them suspicious. Also, until recently, no one would have expected a Cardassian to be telepathic.

After a while the meal slowly ran out, the discussions ended, and the guests began to say goodbye.

Tahiri came over to Elim before leaving. "I don't want this to stand between us," he said. "Contact me and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Elim smiled thinly. “What you want me to know, you mean. Cyron, if I really wanted to know everything you know, I would invite you to come to me."

Tahiri bowed his head and swallowed. “That was unnecessary, Mr. Garak. It is my wish to work with you.” He looked up, pale. "Give me a few days to reschedule my appointments."

He eyed the man curiously. Did he actually offer to be questioned by the Order voluntarily? It was too good an offer to turn down. "Why does my trust mean so much to you?"

The man met his eyes bitterly. “I know exactly why you have my company monitored and I know the security risk I pose. I want to be sure that neither I nor my family will be harmed."

Tahiri had a wife and five children. Two of his sons and a daughter worked in his company. The third son worked for the Order. Elim could understand why he was worried. He knew what Tain would have done in his place. Good for Tahiri that Elim wasn't his father.

"I'll get in touch with you."

Tahiri met his gaze uncertainly, then nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Garak."

"Was that necessary?", Iliana asked after Tahiri had left.

Elim smiled. "No, but I enjoyed it."

She eyed him. "Raghman has a preference for a certain type," she said then. "She likes you so much, it should have been clear to me that you are not as nice as you appear."

It hurt more than he expected. "I'm sorry if you feel like I purposely gave you the wrong impression," he said, a little stiffly.

She shook her head. “No, you didn't. It's my fault. I'm sorry, Elim, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't." He grinned, even if it was a lie. "Raghman likes me, yes?"

Iliana laughed. “It's pretty obvious. Didn't you notice?"

Elim looked at the Gul-tar who was talking to Maher. He thought of Mantissek. "No, I hadn’t noticed that."

.

"I'm glad you came." Raghman smiled at him. The last of the guests had left and her slaves cleared the table. Raghman sat in one of the armchairs on the side of the room and poured two glasses of Kanar. "Come, sit down."

Elim reluctantly stepped closer. He wasn't exactly sure what she wanted from him, but since it was Raghman, there was no way it would be good. What was this charade about? "Why did you invite me to this meeting?" He asked angrily. "According to the law, I should have you all arrested."

She grinned in amusement and took a sip of her Kanar. "Because of a dance? Good luck with that."

"For conspiracy!" He hissed.

Raghman leaned her head back and laughed. "Conspiracy!" She turned her glass between her fingers. "Perhaps. But you won't."

Anger filled him and it took a lot of effort not to let it show too clearly. He hated her arrogance. "Why not?" He asked challengingly. "What should stop me?"

She took another sip and studied her glass thoughtfully. "You love Cardassia too much," she said finally. "You know we are Cardassia's best option because the alternative is anarchy."

This time it was he who laughed. "I could smash this conspiracy piece by piece, one of your co-conspirators after the other."

She closed her eyes. "I trust you won't do that."

"Why?" He asked angrily. "Why are you even giving me the chance?" He hated her games. Was this a test? Did she want to see if he was still loyal to her, despite everything she'd done to him? Did she really think she still had power over him? Or was she just taunting him?

She opened her eyes and leaned forward. “Because I love Cardassia. I want you to work with me, not against me. For Cardassia."

Elim laughed disparagingly. “As if there was ever going to be equality between us. You don't want equals, Corian. What you want are slaves.” He pointed to the two green-skinned men who stood like statues at the door of the room. “Why did you legalize slavery again? To keep Lomossok's mines running, or to satisfy your urges?”

"Both of course." She laughed. “What, did you think I would deny it? Nobody knows my preferences better than you, Elim.” She waved, and one of the men came over to them and knelt beside her chair. “You enjoy your regained power, don't you? Don't worry, I can understand that.” She grabbed the man's collar with one hand and opened the fastening on his jacket without taking her eyes off Elim. When the man finally took off his jacket, she rubbed a bruise on his shoulder and pressed her fingers on it so that he winced. He didn't back away, however, on the contrary, after a moment he leaned in to her touch. The man's back was covered with dark green welts.

Elim couldn't look away. The sight repelled and excited him at the same time. He could only remember too well how he himself had once kneeled next to her. There had been a time when he had enjoyed submitting to her. He had enjoyed her every touch, even if it was painful.

The slave looked up at him and Elim suddenly hated him. Hated him for wanting for a fleeting moment to be in his place. Hated him for the understanding in his purple eyes. Hated him because his mind was open to him and it would be all too easy to feel what he was feeling. A seduction he couldn't give in to. He looked away.

Elim had thought he had outgrown Raghman's control. He had driven her out of his consciousness, erased every suggestion she had planted in him. How could she still influence him like that?

The perfidious part of it was, Elim knew exactly why she could. She didn't need telepathy any more than he needed telepathy to get a confession from Dr. Parmak, a man who still couldn't look him in the eye. Neither did his father need telepathy to know that he never had to ask Elim for anything. The part of him that she had appropriated was not so easily recovered.

"If you want to play games with me, I'm always happy to," she said, tearing him from his thoughts. “Power games, other games. The alternative is that we agree to respect each other. I want us to come to an agreement that will serve Cardassia."

"You mean one that serves _you_ ," he said bitterly. “You're talking about respect, but these are just empty words. If you respected me you wouldn't try to manipulate me this way. If you cared about Cardassia, you would accept that the Order is independent and you would be satisfied with your position instead of influencing political decisions in your favor behind the scenes."

Raghman laughed in disbelief. “You can't really mean that! You should know better than anyone that Cardassia would sink into chaos if left to her own devices. I want to change things for the better, not play a dabo game with Cardassia's future. "

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe it is not your right to decide what is best for our people?"

“Somebody has to do it. Who else should do it? Central Command, full of power-hungry legates? The spineless politicians in the Detapa? The businessmen who would sell our people to the Federation for a bottle of latinum? You?"

"I don't know," he replied coolly. "Maybe the people should be able to decide for themselves."

"The people!" She said with disgust. “The same people who made Meya Rejal and Dukat leaders? The people are an amorphous mass, with the intelligence of a paspa snake. Wait two years and they'll make me emperor. Maybe I don't even have to wait that long. The Federation gave you strange ideas, Elim. When did you ever believe that it makes sense to leave Cardassia's fate to the people?"

He pressed his lips together. The bitter part was, she was right. He had never believed that the people would be able to run the state. The people were ruled, and when the people ruled, those who ruled them ruled - or anarchy. Still, there had to be a better alternative than Raghman.

Raghman leaned forward and looked at him intently. “I know you'd prefer someone else, Elim. You have every reason to distrust me. However, that is not the basis on which you should make your decision. What you should really be asking yourself is whether what we do is good for or harmful to Cardassia. Our goal is to renew Cardassia.” She leaned back. “Besides, it would be foolish to turn against us at this point. It would lead to a split that sooner or later would end in civil war. Do not forget that it was me who officially recognized the Order."

"Out of self-interest," he replied angrily. “So that we are officially subordinate to you and Garan. If you had not recognized us, we would not be accountable to anyone. "

"You would be an illegal organisation with no authority." Raghman took a deep breath and motioned for the slave to leave. “Elim, I don't know how many more times I have to tell you this, but I want what's best for Cardassia. I know you don't believe me, but I welcomed the fact that you rebuilt the Order because Cardassia needs the Order. Everyone who sat at this table is working for Cardassia's good. I just want you not to hinder us. Call it self-interest if you want.” She held up her hands. “We could both destroy each other, along with everything we've built, but that wouldn't do anyone any good. Let's come to an agreement, at least for a while."

Elim reluctantly sat down and picked up the glass she had placed before him. He knew her words were poison, but it had already poisoned him. Maybe she was right and there was no one else. In any case, they were at an impasse. If he acted against one of the conspirators, the rest would turn against him. He didn't know how far her influence actually went, and he didn't make the mistake of assuming that all of her contacts had been here. Raghman had had decades to make connections, to cultivate followers. Together with her Antamon her network stretched through all of Cardassian society, otherwise she would never have been able to seize power so quickly and smoothly. Even if the Order ended up winning this contest, the cost was too high. It was as she had said - the power vacuum would cause the remaining factions to fall on each other like starving hounds. It would destroy Cardassia.

The knowledge that there was nothing they could do about him and the Order for the same reasons was little consolation.

"What do you want?" He asked tiredly. "Should the Order look the other way while you spin your intrigues?"

"I already told you," she replied angrily. “I want you not to work against us. All goals we pursue are perfectly legal. The Detapa will approve the new laws that we are planning, as will Central Command. Help us implement these laws. Let us know who is working against us. Give us the information that will help us be successful. All of this is your job anyway, but if you wanted, you could use all your resources to make us fail and we would fail. I know what the Order is capable of."

Elim turned his glass in his hand. Maybe she was right, and he could ruin all of her plans, but he had never meant to because he welcomed many of the changes she was making. "All right," he said finally. “Let's create a new Cardassia. I hope it will survive us."

Raghman smiled in amusement. She didn't care about his doubts, and why should she? She got what she wanted. "So, in the spirit of our new collaboration - have your people found something interesting lately?"

Elim looked briefly at the floor. The Order was constantly finding interesting new information, especially now that telepaths were available to them. In addition, all of their agents who had had no contact with the Order for a long time now gradually answered - and several of them had gained valuable knowledge in recent years, especially those who had gone into hiding. He only shared a fraction of it with Raghman and Garan, as she could imagine. Surprisingly, the telepaths had turned out to be surprisingly loyal, so far there had been no indications that anyone was disclosing internal knowledge to the outside world - especially to Raghman. It might have to do with how Elim had taken control in the beginning. The Order had its own internal surveillance,and had never treated traitors graciously. Elim wondered fleetingly if what he was doing here could be considered treason. He had no intention of hiding his knowledge of this association from the Order, though - even if Raghman might expect otherwise. He'd agreed to work with her, and he would - as long as it didn't break his vow to serve Cardassia.

"We actually learned something recently that you might be interested in," he said finally, suppressing his doubts. "Surprisingly from our agents in the Klingon Empire."

### Cardassian capital, 2377

Elim entered the building cautiously, one hand on his phaser. He'd been completely surprised when this particular chip activated, and when he found out about it, he knew he had to go to the meeting in person. Not all agents of the Order had answered the call from headquarters. Some of them were certain to be dead, or too wounded to answer - their records were still woefully incomplete. Others had likely lost or destroyed their chips, either because they had given up on the Order or out of fear of persecution. They would contact them again in time. And finally, there were those who deliberately ignored the call - they would not escape their punishment, but that too had time. The Order awoke, slowly but inevitably. Elim was extremely pleased with the progress he was making.

This ... he hardly dared hope.

He felt the two people in the basement of the building, their presence as faint as a whisper. They were good at hiding, but none of them was a telepath. It was next to impossible for a non-telepath to hide his presence from a telepath of Elim's strength, even if he might be able to shield his thoughts and feelings. Elim could sense the tension and fear in the woman. He felt little more of the second presence than that it existed - something that fed his hope.

He motioned for Marendrial to wait in the hallway and entered the room alone. "I know you are here," he said.

Two figures emerged from the shadows. The woman had a phaser in her hand, and her posture reflected the tension he felt in her. Elim smiled when he recognized her. "It's good to see you, Ms. Dejar." She looked a lot older than the young woman he had once trained. It looked like she'd become a good agent. An agent who was loyal to her superior. He raised his hands. "We're on the same side."

Her eyes eyed him suspiciously. "That remains to be determined."

Elim took a deep breath when his gaze fell on the man next to her. He was surprised at the mixture of conflicting feelings the sight evoked in him. Relief, shock, pity, admiration ... "My friend ..."

Pythas had obviously not been to any of the Antamon hospitals. It upset Elim to see how disfigured he was. Elim had thought his old friend had managed to fake his death. Pythas Lok was alive, but Tain's plot had not left him unscathed.

The single eye of his counterpart gave him a bitterly ironic look. Apparently his voice had reflected his feelings.

"I had hoped it would be you," Pythas said in a hoarse voice. He propped himself up with one hand on a crutch. His other hand now touched Dejar's arm. “Put that down, Nal. It won't help us here. "

Dejar pressed her lips together but did as he said. 

"I am glad to see you," said Elim. "Let me help you."

The mouth of the man formed the touch of a smile, barely recognizable in his scorched face. “I don't have much choice, do I? It should have been you from the start, Elim. "

Elim shook his head. "I wasn't ready for it then."

Pythas regarded him thoughtfully, then nodded, and took Elim's outstretched arm. “I beg you, be good to Nal. She is a good girl. She helped me when I needed help most..."

"No!" the woman screamed. She reached out to pull Pythas away from Elim, but Marendrial was suddenly there and pushed her back. Nal was a well-trained agent, but she stood no chance against Marendrial's superior speed and strength.

"You haven't changed," said Pythas when the transporter beam caught them. He looked almost satisfied. The sight made Elim sad. What had made his old friend so hopeless?

"Oh no," he said as they materialized. “I've changed, Pythas. More than you can imagine."


	3. Chapter 3

### Hengxing Station, 2379

Necheyev entered the admiral's lounge to the sight of Ross, Nakamura and Nozawa toasting each other, and anger rose in her, but she forced herself to smile. "Looks like I missed the best part." The three men and the other admirals in the room turned to her.

"Alynna!" Ross grinned broadly. "You and Tsugio did an excellent job. We are all glad that this conflict could be resolved so quickly through the power of diplomacy."

Her smile froze. She had lost two ships in the battle with the Romulans, while Tsugio Nozawa and his fleet had sat in Sigma Draconis, waiting. When the green-blooded bastards had finally given up and had offered diplomatic talks, Nozawa had suddenly been there to assist in the negotiations. She had not been able to leave Draconis Alpha until the damage to the Crazy Horse had been repaired, and meanwhile Nozawa had flown ahead to the meeting with the admiralty. Apparently his version of events differed from the one she remembered. "I'm glad it was only a brief conflict," she said.

"Yes, we all know you don't like conflicts," Ross said patronizingly.

Necheyev gritted her teeth. "Yes, especially the Borg and the Dominion have discovered how little I like conflict."

"Terrible wars, it's not surprising some people have become tired of battle. All the better that we have young blood to support us old warriors." Ross slapped Nozawa on his shoulder companionably, and her gaze was drawn to the man's insignia of rank. Suddenly, hot anger rose in her when she realized that she had been used. "Congratulations, Admiral," she said, "I had not thought your recent accomplishments deserved such a promotion.”

"Thank you for your perspective, Alynna," Ross said, exchanging an amused glance with Nakamura.

The fleet admiral frowned. "If you find it so hard to share the credit, you shouldn't have asked for Tsugio's assistance," he rebuked. "I am surprised at your reaction, Alynna. You're not usually so petty."

Petty? She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. She had expected nothing less from Ross, but she was shocked that Nakamura was stabbing her in the back like that.

"I’m not. I wish Admiral Nozawa good luck with the challenges of his new position. Excuse me, gentlemen."

She turned away and took a deep breath. Admiral Aaron was looking at her. She reached for a glass of synthehol vodka and went over to him. Her colleague grinned crookedly. "Ross didn’t waste any time, did he?"

Necheyev looked at him in surprise. She liked Reinhard Aaron, but she hadn't expected him to be so unreservedly on her side before she had even told him what had happened. Margaret Blackwell joined them and glanced at the three men on the other side of the room. "Don't look so surprised, Alynna. It's no secret that Bill Ross is doing his best to put people of his trust in positions of influence. What surprises me is that you fell for one of his schemes."

Necheyev suddenly realized that it had been her mistake. She had neglected to keep up with the intrigues within Starfleet. Perhaps the war _had_ made her tired. "I didn't expect Nakamura to help him with that."

"He didn't," Aaron said. "The old man is on noones side but his own. Nevertheless, we should keep an eye on Ross. I don't like his friends, if you know what I mean."

Necheyev emptied her glass and wished once again that the Ferengi brew had never become so popular. She knew Ross' friends, and she wished things like Section 31 had never escaped the hour of the wolf. "Let's talk about this later," she said.

Blackwell nodded. "I like you, Alynna. Why don't you visit me in Toronto sometime when you’re free? My granddaughter would be delighted to meet you."

Necheyev's need for a glass of real vodka increased, but she smiled. "I look forward to meeting her."

### Breman, 2378

"Are you sure?" Elim felt amused about how unsettled Denar was. "I think it's dangerous..."

"Why?" he asked patiently. He knew why, of course.

Denar bit her lips, and he wondered if she would really do what he was hoping for. Marendrial Denar had been one of the first true Antamon. Raghman had taken her from a Bajoran orphanage where she had been the oldest girl. She had looked after the other children there, and had often told him how relieved she had been when they were rescued by Raghman. On the other hand, only two of these children were still alive. Only Marendrial had had a talent for telepathy, most of the others had become soldiers. Raghman's victory had been bought at high cost.

In addition, Denar, unlike many other children, had known her parents. They had not been married, and had both died in a terrorist attack. Nevertheless, her mother's family had accepted her. Children of all kinds had become precious on Cardassia.

She stepped out onto the terrace and stared at the sandstorm that was raging behind the shields. "Don't you ever worry that one day she'll kill you? It would be so easy."

He knew what she was thinking. If those shields failed, the toxic sand would bury the house underneath it. Any agent with a little technical expertise could arrange for a malfunction that would be thought an accident.

"Everyone dies some day."

"She thinks I would spy on the new Order for her. She thinks most of the Antamon are actually loyal to her, and one word from her would be enough to control the Order, just as she already controls Central Command. She thinks that sooner or later she will learn how you and Pythas rebuilt the Order, and then she no longer needs you.”

Elim nodded. "What do you think?"

Denar turned to him and stared at him.

Elim smiled thinly. "Did you think I didn't know that?"

She took a deep breath and blood shot to her face. "Was this only a test? Did you want to see if I would betray her, or the Order to her?"

Elim patiently tilted his head to one side.

"I think we are not puppets," she said angrily. "Neither Raghman's nor yours. I think Antamon are Cardassians like everyone else, and they have willingly chosen the Order. I think they are loyal. No, I don't just think that, I know that, because we tested their minds together. I haven't said anything to Raghman. I told her you don't trust me. The moment she finds out that I lied to her, she will have me eliminated. From that moment on, I am nothing more than a faulty instrument to her. Just as we are all just instruments to her, tools to be used or disposed of. Is this what you wanted to hear?"

Elim smiled. "It is what I hoped to hear. Thank you, my dear. Yes, it was a test. The offer was serious, though. I want you to become one of the leaders of the new Order."

Denar turned pale and lowered her head. "I am honored. But if Raghman finds out..."

"I like you too much to sacrifice you to the hubris of a power-hungry Gul-tar. So we should think about what you're going to say to her."

She raised her head. "You want me to play along with her?"

Elim approached her and pointed to the storm. The screen flickered and disappeared. Behind it, the empty desert lay still and motionless. "People feel safer when they think they know the weaknesses of their enemies. They believe that the vulnerability of others is their strength. If Raghman thinks she can control the Order, it's in our interest to let her continue thinking that."

"I cannot lie to her," Denar whispered shamefully. "I know she knows if I try."

"Yet you do think she believed you when you told her I didn't trust you?"

"It is the truth."

"Ah." Elim went to the end of the path where the desert began and grabbed a handful of sand, let it run through his fingers. There were many reasons why his father had built the house in this place. "Then we must find some new truths."

### Starbase 1, Earth, 2380

Elim studied the blue planet on the other side of the window with a mixture of discomfort and satisfaction. Two very contradictory feelings, but this kind of feeling was not new to him. _Earth is a paradise_ , Eddington had once said. Though Elim had scorned and despised the human – how could he not, the man had, after all, not only been an avowed enemy of his people, he had also been an oathbreaker and traitor - he had said some true words. It was in a way amusing that a man could hate the society that had raised him so much. 

A aspect of human nature that was at once amusing, repulsive, and fascinating. Be that as it may, Eddington had understood what many other races found so repugnant about the Federation, an insight that the majority of his kind lacked. They could not understand why their idea of a perfect society was not shared by all other species. Elim could understand this in an abstract way, Cardassians were, after all, similar to them in this respect. How harmoniously they could have existed together if their ideas of perfection had not been so fundamentally different... Elim thought very few members of his own species and very few humans could understand the humor of this idea.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let his thoughts float back and forth with the superficial thoughts of the people around him. The space station was huge, and filled with countless inhabitants. Humans, but also members of many other species. In addition to the shipyard where Starfleet's impressive ships were built, the station also housed stores, quarters for travelers and merchants, restaurants and casinos, fitness halls and other places of entertainment. It was the essence of what the Federation was all about - prosperity, orderly chaos, and a mix of cultures that, despite their differences, all seemed to share the same goal.

Perhaps a few years ago he would have felt envy looking at this planet. This rich, orderly world, so unlike the Cardassia that had been left behind by the war. Was that what the humans intended when they brought other species here to speak before their council? Did they want to provoke them so that they were less rational in their arguments? As if it weren't enough to force them to perform in an atmosphere that was strange to them, in an environment that was uncomfortable to excruciating for them (Elim was, for once, grateful for the years of his exile, in which he had become accustomed to the cold and the bright light). Or did they just want to seduce them with their paradise? Wealth, prosperity, peace, freedom ... maybe it would have been seductive for a less cynical man. It was admirable that the forces that ruled this paradise had managed to enthrall their citizens so completely in this illusion. There was no opposition in the Federation, aside from a few aberrations like Eddington. If there were critics, they were toothless court jesters. And who would criticize this? Who, if not a villain, would want to destroy a paradise? Elim had no desire to become part of this puppet paradise, but he admired the puppeteers.

He leaned back in his chair. He was in one of the restaurants on the upper floors of the station. The middle of the station was an open space, which meant that all the floors below were visible from his point of view. It was so dizzying that he almost felt sick.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. Elim didn't feel comfortable being so far away from Cardassia, but at the same time he was amused by the feeling. He knew that total control didn't exist, even if part of him wished it did. It had never been his goal to create an Order that collapsed without him. Even his proxies - and he trusted them enough to be convinced that in his absence they would act on his behalf - should not be necessary to preserve his work. What he had wanted to create was an entity that did not need a leader to function. Even if it would occur to Raghman to have him, Phytas, Talon, Denar, and all of their immediate subordinates eliminated, the Order would survive. He wasn't his father. And yet... He had begun to enjoy his power and it made him nervous to be so far away from its center. When had he become so arrogant?

It was for many reasons benefical that he had come to this place, not just because it put him in the middle of the power nexus of their most dangerous enemy. It was always good to face your own weaknesses if you wanted to overcome them. He was afraid of being again as powerless as he had been for so many years. A realistic fear. Raghman might use his absence to try to take control of the Order. If she tried, she would fail, but it could still mean exile for him. Section 31 might try to kidnap or kill him. Not very likely, since they still thought him to be a mostly harmless diplomat, but they might try to get information on Cardassia from him. And last but not least, there was the beguiling ambassador Troi, with whom he would debate tomorrow, and who represented a real danger just by herself.

Elim turned his glass between his fingers, from which he had not yet drunk anything, and would not do so. All these possibilities were frightening, and part of him felt this fear. Another part, the one which determined his actions, was completely calm. Vulcans controlled their thoughts and emotions through compartmentalization, which had repulsed him at first, but which he by now found extremely useful. Section 31 would learn nothing useful from him if they interrogated him, and Ambassador Troi would never even suspect that she was facing a telepath with abilities more than equal to her. Cardassia and its secrets were safe, even if he himself might not be.

Besides, he enjoyed the prospect of debating with the vain old Betazoid tomorrow, even if he lost.

His eyes wandered to the Enterprise, the flagship of the Federation that had brought him to this place. A beautiful ship. A beautiful world. He enjoyed being here as much as he hated it. Perhaps that was wise.

"Is this seat still available?" a voice asked.

Elim looked up and nodded at the dark-haired Vulcan who had come to his table. He held out his hand. "Please, be my guest."

The man hesitated for a moment, as if he didn't know exactly what to make of that answer, then he sat down. He looked out of the window, at the blue planet. "So much water," he said. "There are studies that put forward the hypothesis that this abundance of water has a causal relationship with the unstable nature of the Terran mentality. This aspect of them has always fascinated me. You know, when our research teams first landed on this planet five hundred years ago, this was a primitive race with carbon-based energy production. Look at them now."

Elim looked down to the humans on the floors below them. Around them, the restaurant was almost empty. It was late lunchtime, and all the people who had come with Elim to have lunch had already disappeared again to pursue their activities.

"Perhaps it is because their lives are so short," he speculated. "Everything they do, they do quickly and with great enthusiasm.”

"Perhaps." The Vulcan examined him. "That is another characteristic of children. A stage of development that is necessary, but should not be left unattended."

Elim smiled. "This constant activity is very tiring in the long run, isn't it? I can understand that. Sometimes it is better to take a break and have a little cultivated conversation. It helps to see things more clearly."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "I see we agree on this, Mr. Garak."

Elim raised his glass. "lndeed."

### Cardassia, 2378

"What I don't quite understand is why you are still so loyal to Raghman." Perhaps that was too direct a statement by his standards, but Elim now felt that he knew Iliana well enough to ask it. They had met more often lately and, if he dared say so, had become friends. Most of the ships of the Cardassian fleet were stuck in the shipyards, including Iliana’s. The crews helped with Cardassia’s reconstruction until the time long longed for by many when their ships would be put back into service. However, this point in time was still far away, Cardassia was still far from strong enough to begin a new campaign of conquest, even Central Command could see that. “You were once a member of the Obsidian Order. Surely you can see that some of her goals are fundamentally opposed to those of the Order. "

Iliana eyed him thoughtfully for a while. "Let me show you something," she said then.

### Starbase 375, 2380

William Ross was a little surprised to see a Bajoran on the screen, but he didn't let it show. "What can I do for you?"

The woman studied him coldy. "I’m contacting you in the interests of our partners. So far you have not fulfilled your end of our bargain. We did what we promised. It is now up to you to resolve the remaining problems."

Ross swallowed nervously. "Things have been very chaotic lately, I had no opportunity..."

“Then you will find one. This is starting to worry people. It could be that they start to mistake you for a problem."

Ross clenched his fist. "Don't worry, I will take care of it."

„Good. Good day to you, Admiral.“

He stared into space for a moment, then he stood up resolutely. He had always known what he was getting into. This was not the right time to develop feelings of guilt. He knew he was doing the right thing. In a war, sacrifices always had to be made. He had no doubts, and if he repeated it often enough, maybe one day he would believe it.

### Breman, 2378

When Elim came home, he took off his suit and crawled on the hot stones of his sauna. The heat relaxed him. He had missed this on Terok Nor. Almost every apartment on Cardassia had a sauna, and Terok Nor had been the same before the Bajorans took over the station. The Bajorans had had all the saunas removed from the quarters on the grounds that the energy consumption was too high. In reality, it was the petty revenge of a long oppressed people, empty, because Elim was the only one it hurt. He had often cursed the Bajoran engineers who came up with the idea when he sat in his quarters at night, exhausted and shivering from the cold.

Fortunately, those times were over and would hopefully never come back. He could enjoy the heat as long as he wanted, and forget the events of this day. He would regret his concessions to Raghman one day, he was sure of that, and that day would come sooner than he would like. But until then, he would enjoy Cardassia as it was.

He closed his eyes and trembled despite the heat. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but there was no one he could have asked. He had to trust his own instincts and hope they did not mislead him.

### Farha, 2378

Farha was one of the many cities that had not yet been rebuilt by the Antamon. They had focused their efforts on the capital and on Lakarian, both cities that had been hit hardest by the Dominion's attacks, and whose restoration raised the morale of the people. Apart from that, they had concentrated on the more rural areas - the food supply was more important than the cities.

They had nevertheless begun to rebuild, albeit much more slowly than would have been possible with the help of the Antamon. The most severely destroyed houses had been demolished, and their parts were used to repair the remaining buildings. The inhabitants, if they were still alive, had sought new dwellings. The government supported them with the most necessary things - replicators, medical supplies, transport equipment. The power and water supply had been restored in all cities in the first year after the war, but... The empty spaces where rows of houses and streets had once been still bore witness to the devastation the Dominion had left behind. As in many other cities, large parts of Farha's downtown and industrial areas had been destroyed, and now there was wasteland. Among that, grey and ugly, stood the new buildings - functional, sterile structures that had been raised as quickly as possible to provide shelter for the city's homeless citizens.

It was one of these buildings that Iliana led him to. She had not told him what she wanted to show him, and Elim was very curious. He knew that the Ghemor family had owned land in Farha, but whatever had been there was now most likely destroyed. It had been in the east of the city, the most severely affected area.

They took the elevator to one of the higher floors of the building. When they left the elevator, they entered a narrow, windowless corridor from which several doors opened. Elim was glad that he had his claustrophobia under control by now. He could not imagine living in such a place, but he knew that the residents here had no choice. They were happy to have a roof over their heads. The region of Elar, where Farha was located, was one of the colder areas of Cardassia. It was a dry and inhospitable area that offered little refuge. During the day the temperatures were quite pleasant, but at night they dropped rapidly. They could be glad that they had not lost more citizens to the cold in the first days after the war. The Antamon had landed many of their ships near this and other cities - something that would not have been possible with Galor-class ships - and their extended shields had provided shelter for the homeless Cardassians and saved many lives.

Iliana knocked on one of the doors, which opened a moment later. The apartment they entered was as small and cramped as everything else in the building, a single room with another door that most likely led to the bathroom. There was only one window, and even that was luxury, because Elim was sure that many apartments in the inner part of the building did not even have that. Despite this confinedness, it looked surprisingly comfortable. There were many pictures hanging on the walls, a shelf on the side was filled with books, and the settee on the side, which certainly also served as a bed, was covered with a quilt that had been lovingly embroidered.

The woman who had opened the door for them was young, barely more than twenty. The most striking thing about her was her snow-white hair, and the flying lizard that clung to her shoulder. Krillit, the Elarians called these animals. Most species of this animal were nocturnal, but there were also some diurnal ones that were kept as pets by some Cardassians, especially the colorful varieties. Such as the lizard on the shoulder of the woman, whose scales showed a purple-yellow pattern.

"Iliana," she said with an inviting smile. "It is good to see you. You brought me a guest? I wish I could give you a better welcome." She pointed to the only table in the room around which four chairs were grouped. "Please sit down. I can only offer you tea."

There was no replicator in the room. Elim assumed there was a communal cafeteria on the floor. The woman took a few cups from the cupboard on the side, and a glass pot, which she filled with hot water. They sat down and waited until she had put everything on the table in front of them.

She sat down with them and let a Tokhos root slide into the pot. Elim inhaled the aroma with relish as the root unfolded. It was an exquisite tea, surprising in an apartment like this.

"I see you like Tokhos tea," the woman said. "I am pleased. I have to thank Iliana for it, as for so many other things. She knows my weakness for good tea."

Iliana smiled. "Don't embarrass me, sister," she replied. "It is the least I can do."

Elim looked from one woman to the other in surprise. Now that it had been mentioned, he could see the resemblance between the two.

"Elim, this is my sister Manisi," said Iliana. "Manisi, my good friend Elim Garak.”

Manisi smiled winningly and poured them all tea. "Iliana has already told me so much about you, Mr. Garak, it feels like I am meeting an old friend."

"I wish I could say the same," Elim replied, "but I didn't know that Iliana had a sister.”

Manisi's purple eyes regarded him with humor. "You should not be angry with her, it's kind of a secret."

"Really?" Elim looked at her, fascinated. He had not known that Tekeny Ghemor had a second daughter, and that alone made her existence very intriguing.

Manisi eyed her sister for a moment, as if looking for some clue as to where this conversation was supposed to go. "I suppose you didn't just bring him here to enjoy my tea?"

Iliana nodded hesitantly. "I hope you don't mind..."

Manisi put a hand on Iliana’s and smiled. "Don't worry, sister.” She looked at Elim. "I was born five years after Iliana's disappearance. By then, our mother had given up hope that Iliana would ever return, and she desperately wanted another child. My father tried to dissuade her - after all, it is well known that it is not advisable for some women to have children at an advanced age - but she insisted. She ignored the doctors' advice, and when she was eventually pregnant, she avoided the usual exams. It was foolish, but she wouldn't let it stop her. I think my father let it happen in the end because he realized how depressed she had become since Iliana disappeared. I know he never forgave himself for letting it happen" She sounded bitter, and ran a hand over the lizard on her shoulder. "As all of them feared, I was born disabled. White, with red eyes, and, like so many of these children, deaf and half-blind. Most parents would have let me die by then, but my mother refused. She wanted to keep me despite everything. My father made it possible. I never learned how he kept it a secret from the Order, how he silenced the doctors. I am not sure I want to know. He sent us with one of his men to one of the border colonies. They dyed my hair, gave me medicine to change the color of my skin. They were able to restore my eyesight and change the color of my eyes, but not the deafness. Maybe otherwise I could have survived on Cardassia, but the tests when I started school would have revealed that I was not normal. "

She turned the cup between her hands. Elim studied her. You could not tell she was handicapped. Sure, her hair was white, but her skin and eyes seemed normal. She was a beautiful woman, all in all, just like her sister. Iliana had the more energetic, fiery beauty, but her sister was just as beautiful, if not more beautiful, in her calm manner. An obviously smart, beautiful woman who would never have existed if everything had happened according to the rules of their society at that time. The order would have had her killed, and Ghemor and his wife would have been charged with treason if they had found out what he had done.

"When did you find out?" he asked Iliana.

"A friend of my father's contacted me when he learned I was alive," Iliana said. "Manisi was in one of the colonies in the demilitarized zone at the time. Raghman helped me get her to Sandun and the Antamon did what they could for her.

Manisi smiled. "I no longer need to take medication, thanks to the Antamon medicine. More than that, thanks to the changes in the law that Raghman wants to introduce, I will soon have a right to exist.” Her smile gained a cynical edge. "We owe her something, that's probably what my sister wanted to tell you by bringing you here. Not only Iliana's life, but also mine.”


	4. Chapter 4

### Deep Space Nine, 2380

"This is outrageous! Is this the way the Federation respects its own laws?"

"Ambassador Garak..."

Elim enjoyed this performance. They were in the middle of the promenade. It had not been easy to intercept Admiral Picard at the exact moment he left the temple, but it had been worth the effort. He lifted the data pad that showed the frozen face of the Federation President. ' **Baco revokes Federation Council decision** ' blazed the headline.

"The Council agreed with my arguments! This embargo has been declared illegal!"

Meanwhile, a crowd of spectators had gathered around them. Some of them already knew what it was all about, the rest were just beginning to understand. Elim hadn't expected Starfleet to give them such a wonderful gift. He had expected to lose the debate, no matter what arguments he had, but obviously the Federation Council was more independent than he had thought. And when he left Earth on the Federation flagship without being bothered, he had almost begun to believe that he had overestimated his opponents. Which - well, a political victory for Cardassia that meant opening the trade routes would be useful - but it destroyed many fine plans. He was already on Terok Nor when he received the news that the human president had vetoed the council's decision.

Several of his listeners knew him as the reticent tailor who had lived on this station for years. None of them had ever seen him angry. Their surprise at his behaviour would have been exhilarating if Elim had not focused on his anger.

Picard was obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation. The Admiral was a fascinating man, Elim had had the opportunity to talk to him a few times during the voyage. He knew that Picard was personally in favor of lifting the embargo. Elim admired that. Just as he admired the fact that Picard was heroically trying not to let his antipathy against Cardassians influence him.

He deliberately stepped on the stairs in front of the temple so that he looked down at Picard, and subtly changed his body language. Madred had been a little smaller and stouter than him, so he pulled his head in a little and inflated his neck ridges. To the Bajorans, it looked as if he was reluctant to confront the other man. Picard, it would remind of another Cardassian who had yelled at him from above. "I thought the Federation kept its promises, but obviously that was naive!" he hissed. "Wasted energy! I wish I hadn’t expended it in such a futile effort!”

He could see the exact moment Picard lost it. He could talk to his half-Betazoid counsellor as much as he wanted, but what Madred had done was not so easily forgotten.

"You have not the slightest right to make demands on us," Picard replied angrily. "We do not owe you any concessions! After all, it was you who started this war!"

Some people in their audience called out in approval, which was to be expected, but in others, this response provoked displeasure. They were the ones that Elim was counting on.

"Oh, so that's how it is," he shouted. "This is the punishment for Dukat's hubris! It doesn't matter that he's dead, that millions of Cardassians have died to overthrow this corrupt government! It doesn't matter that we almost sacrificed our homeworld to defeat the Dominion! All of Cardassia should bear the consequences for the actions of one madman, is that what you're saying? What an arrogant man you are!"

"We offered you our help! You have refused it!" cried Picard.

"Help!" Elim laughed dismissively, and this time he did not need to pretend what he felt. His contempt for the kind of help the Allies had offered Cardassia was very real. "Aid rations, for free access to our entire territory and the stationing of Starfleet on Cardassia, so that you can help us rebuild our government! I bet in a few years you would have offered us Federation membership!"

"If your government had adhered to the Federation's democratic guidelines, sure, that would have been a possibility," Picard replied calmly. "It is still a possibility, if you will reopen your borders and accept our help with reforms."

"What a generous offer." He suddenly felt real anger, and stepped down the stairs, into the middle of the goup of Bajorans. "You never intended to lift this trade embargo, did you? All this political theater is just a farce. You won't lift the embargo until Cardassia agrees to become a protectorate of the Federation. I'm sorry, Admiral, we will have to refuse this kind of help."

Picard frowned. "You twist my words. That is not what I said."

"Everyone here heard what you said. It was clear enough."

Picard's frown deepened. He knew he had made a mistake, even if he didn't quite know what it was yet. The Admiral was a smart man, and a skilled diplomat.

"We would help you to elect a democratic government. You were on your way there before Dukat came to power." Picard took a step toward him. "I know there is a movement on Cardassia that advocates progress. The Federation would assist you in that effort. But even if ..."

"Don't you think it should be our own decision what kind of government we want?" Garak interrupted him. "Maybe the way the Federation governs its planets is not the way we Cardassians are best governed, have you ever thought about that? Maybe we're just different from you."

"All people wish for democracy," Picard said with conviction. "Every individual, regardless of species, aspires to independence and self-realization. The Federation gives all its members that freedom."

"I know you sincerely believe that," Elim replied with a touch of regret. "You believe the type of government you want to promote is the only right kind of government, and you believe that you are doing the right thing when you help other species to establish this kind of government, with leaders who follow your philosophy. An admirable belief, but Cardassia does not want that kind of help."

"That is not what I said," Picard repeated, annoyed.

"We all heard what you said," Elim repeated, "and we all saw what you did."

Elim threw the data pad at his feet, and turned away to leave the Promenade. He had achieved what he had wanted to achieve. Most of the Bajorans moved aside to make way for him.

The amusing thing was, even if the consequences of this discussion became obvious, the Federation would only make things worse with their attempts at explanation.

He had given their allies on Bajor more than enough material to further fuel Bajoran skepticism about the Federation. There were other arguments they were already using and would continue to use. Hadn't the Emissary himself advised against joining the Federation? Hadn't the Federation tried to take control of Terok Nor often enough? Sisko was no longer able to counteract this movement.

Of course, a withdrawal of the Federation from Bajor was not all. Sure, there were enough Guls in Central Command who were only too willing to re-annex Bajor, but that wasn't what Raghman wanted, and Elim agreed with her. Maybe that would have brought them closer to their goals in the short term, but they both had longer-term plans. Cardassia had nothing to gain by raising in new generations of fanatical terrorists. Reliable allies would prove far more useful in the long run.

However, it would not be easy to convince the Bajorans.

Their allies on Bajor were smart enough to see that such an alliance was in Bajor's interest, but they were a minority. Perhaps that would change if the new Kai spoke out in favour of an alliance.

The Vedek on whom they placed their hopes was a former student of Kai Opaka, a friend of Jerald. His name was Abrejoti Brillu. Abrejoti was one of the most popular candidates in the race for the next Kai, which would take place in six months. His family came from the religious caste and had never completely abandoned the old traditions. He had grown up in a monastery, and had not seen much of the occupation in his youth. Besides, he had been skeptical of the Federation from the beginning. According to Jerald, Abrejoti had never really been convinced that a human could be the Emissary, and even if Sisko's death in the fire caves had finally convinced him, he believed that Sisko had been influenced by his origin. Abrejoti had welcomed it when Bajor began to return to the D'jarras, and it had angered him that the Federation had threatened to deny the Bajorans membership because of it. It would not be too difficult to have him elected Kai while the Bajorans were as divided and easily influenced as they were at the moment.

Meanwhile, Elim had reached the Habitat Ring and leaned against a window to study the red planet. An alliance between Bajor and Cardassia, that would be an interesting and quite difficult undertaking. He personally wasn’t really convinced it would work out, even though Raghman was convinced it would. Were the Bajorans really civilized enough?

It wasn't that Elim disliked the Bajorans, or that he thought they were inferior to Cardassians. He was merely very aware that the occupation had destroyed every kind of healthy social structure on the planet, and that most of the current Bajorans had grown up in chaos and anarchy. They would resist any new order imposed on them from outside, especially if Cardassians were involved. It was sad, but that was the reality.

"I almost pity Picard."

Elim turned around and smiled as his eyes fell on the brown-haired Bajoran. "Were you on the Promenade?"

The other man nodded. "An impressive speech. I almost believed you."

"Only almost?" Elim asked, amused. "You think Cardassia will get down on its knees before the Federation in the end?"

Iro studied him. "I don’t know. Maybe."

The arrogance in the Bajoran's brown eyes excited Elim and he could see that his lover knew exactly what effect he had on him. "Come," he said, and Iro followed him without another word.

As soon as the door to his quarters closed behind Iro, he pushed him against the wall and kissed him. "You like provoking me, don't you?"

Iro smiled and wrapped muscular arms around him. "I know which Cardassian I'd like to see go down on his knees."

Elim grabbed Iro's hair and pulled his head roughly back. "Not today." He pressed his lips against the man’s slim neck.

Iro took a deep breath and gripped the fabric of Elim's jacket. "They want me to convince you to take me with you to Cardassia."

Elim paused briefly. It was not a completely surprising but a very foolish idea of the Bajoran secret service. Did they really think he was that naive?

"Well, will you do as you're told?"

Iro froze for a moment, then suddenly gave in and let him push him to his knees. Elim could feel that he was not really in the mood to submit to him and he took a step back. The Bajoran was angry. Iro knew as well as he did what this mission meant.

"You know the answer to that."

Yes, Elim knew the answer because it was the same one he would have given if Tain had given him such an assignment. Iro loved Bajor as much as Elim loved Cardassia. There was only one answer.

"Get up," he said in disgust.

The simplest solution would have been to refuse the offer. Iro was not important enough to have information that would be useful to the Order, and anyway, Elim knew the man inside out by now. But it was tempting for other reasons.

Iro evaded his gaze and looked at the shelf between them. Elim had put some small Cardassian antiques on it, and some books. He always liked to have something to read on a journey.

"No!," he shouted when his lover reached out to pick up one of the figurines. He grabbed his wrist before he could ignore his request. "I told you before, I do not want you to touch these things without my permission."

"Perhaps I have no desire to follow your presumptuous orders today." Iro met his eyes challengingly and Elim finally smiled amused. "No, I can see that."

He dragged the Bajoran with him and pushed him onto his bed, then methodically began to undress. "I prefer a willing partner," he said as he did so. "As you know. What is it you want?"

Iro watched at him hungrily. "I already said what I want, didn't I? I want you to kneel at my feet."

Elim felt a familiar arousal that spread from his abdomen to the rest of his body and quickened his heartbeat. He desired Iro with an intensity he hadn't felt in a long time, and that sometimes shocked him, but he enjoyed the feeling. When he had undressed, he sank to his knees and crawled to the end of the bed, looking up at the Bajoran. He reached for his ankles and took off his shoes and socks, then kissed his feet. "I want you to come with me to Cardassia."

Iro flinched. Elim stroked his fingers over the pale scars on Iro's ankles and kissed them. The man shuddered and almost withdrew his feet. His whole body had tensed. Elim crawled up on the bed and began to take off his pants. "There is nothing to fear, I will not allow you to come to harm."

The Bajoran laughed cynically. "Then what will I be, your pet?"

"Something like that," Elim muttered, kissing a point below Iro's navel.

Iro reared up to him and buried his hands in his hair. "Sometimes I really want to hurt you."

Elim smiled and helped Iro out of his uniform top so that they were both naked at last. He lay down beside him and stroked the other man's muscular chest. One of Iro's scars was a precise line below his left rib, which he traced with his finger. "If that is what you want..."

"I'm not talking about a game." Iro stood up and looked down at him.

Elim met his gaze unblinkingly. Beneath the other man's anger was coldness he had seen only a few times before, and it fascinated him. Elim knew what Iro was capable of, he knew his lover's file after all. However, it was a side that Iro usually hid from him. He was a humorous, very intelligent man, and Elim appreciated that, but he would never have drawn him in like that if that was all. What really fascinated him about Iro was how similar they were, despite their different origins. "It's always a game," he replied.

Iro stood up abruptly and left the bed. Elim remained motionless. When he had taken Iro to his quarters, he had intended to dominate him like at their last meeting, but now that desire had vanished. He knew what the other man needed and he wanted to give it to him. He was surprised how repulsed he was by the thought of taking Iro to Cardassia with him. It would be useful, yes. Useful for the planned alliance, useful to manipulate Bajoran intelligence and with it the Federation. Elim watched Iro when he returned. He appreciated the strength of the other man. He valued him as an equal. His kind would never accept that, not in the current climate. They both knew that.

Iro remained silent while he tied Elim's hands to the headboard. Then he sat down over him and looked down at him. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Elim met his eyes calmly. "Would you prefer it wasn’t so?"

Iro turned a small device back and forth between his fingers. Elim looked at it with a certain curiosity. He didn't know what it was. It was metallic, star-shaped, with a crystal in its center.

"This was among the early finds from the Gamma Quadrant," Iro said, noticing what he was looking at. "It turned out to be very easy to recreate once our scientists figured out how to grow the crystals. At first they thought it was an energy storage device. Maybe that's even one of its purposes."

He turned the star and metal ribbons jumped out of it and wound themselves around his hand. The crystal began to glow. "The interesting thing about it is that the station's sensors do not recognize it as a weapon, even if it could be called one."

Iro pressed the crystal against Elim's chest, and Elim gasped for breath as pain flowed through him. It was a dull, not very intense pain.

"The fascinating thing about the device is that its effect depends solely on the will of the user," Iro continued. "Similar to a vulcan meditation stone, or so I was told."

Elim reared up to him. "Did you test this on volunteers?"

Iro smiled coldly. "No." He closed his eyes, and a moment later the pain intensified so much that after a few seconds Elim's implant activated and the pain turned into euphoria. He groaned and tugged at the cuffs. This was the first time this had happened. Iro had told the truth, this was no longer a game. At least not one that was about lust. Although, as he could feel, Iro was still aroused.

When he opened his eyes, he met Iro's frustrated look. "You knew this would happen."

Elim smiled. "Put this toy aside, who knows what damage it can do." He was not sure why he said what he said next. "There's another one in the drawer."

Iro looked at him confused for a moment, then he opened the drawer of the bedside table. Elim tensed involuntarily as he took out the control unit. "Give it to me," he said nevertheless.

He could enter the activation code without seeing the device. Iro put his star-shaped device aside and took the now active controller out of Elim's hand, studying it curiously. "This looks familiar."

Elim's eyes moved to the scar on Iro's chest. "I know."

Irou noticed where he was looking and his eyes grew cold. "Is that for me or you?"

"You still have the implant?" Elim asked in surprise. He had assumed Iro had it removed as soon as he could.

Iro gritted his teeth and looked to the side. "It's in my spinal cord. They told me they couldn't remove it without running the risk of leaving me paralyzed.”

Elim breathed in in surprise. It happened sometimes with Cardassian prisoners but it was very unusual with Bajorans. Someone must have had a personal grudge against Iro to have gone this far. On Cardassia they would be able to remove it, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell Iro that, but in the end he didn't. "I would have to reprogram it for that," he said instead. Iro pressed the button in response.

The pain was familiar, all-encompassing. Elim had never stopped being afraid of it, even though he had begun to desire it. He screamed as the pain consumed him. When he regained consciousness, Iro's hands stroked his cramped muscles and helped to relax them. Elim enjoyed his touch. Strange, he had always hated it when Raghman did this, but when Iro aroused him again, he enjoyed it, even though he knew he would cause him pain again. He could feel that his lover enjoyed it.

Elim did not want to think too much about what this meant. He knew that Raghman enjoyed torture in a sexual way. It was something that had always disgusted Elim, even though he was a sadist himself. He enjoyed inflicting pain when his partner was willing, like Iro. Torture had never excited him sexually, even though he enjoyed the challenge of an interrogation.

"Elim?" Iro stroked his eye ridges. "Are you okay?"

Elim took a deep breath and forced himself to smile. "Yes.”

His lover frowned and put the controller aside. "No, you’re not." He released the handcuffs. "I'm sorry Elim, this was not a good idea. I was too angry."

Elim stroked the man's hips above him, ignoring his aching wrists. "It's all right. I just need a moment."

Iro kissed him. After that, he stilled, forehead to forehead with him. "I wanted to see you suffer, but I didn't really want to hurt you, Elim. I'm sorry if..."

Elim strengthened his grip on Iros hips and smiled. All of a sudden he could no longer understand how he had been able to compare Iro and Raghman. Iro would never be like Raghman. "It's all right, darling, really. I am fine. Shall I prove to you how fine I am?"

Iro straightened up and smiled in relief. "Thanks, Elim. I know this..." He interrupted himself. "Do you want me to ride you?"

"Oh, please." Elim's excitement was back, as if it had never disappeared.

Iro smiled. "I like it when you say that."

### Cardassia, 2379

"It was never my intention to fulfill more than a minor role in the diplomatic service."

"Intentions are just that... intentions." Raghman smiled. "Cardassia needs you, Mr. Garak. No one knows the Federation better than you do. Who else to better fill this position? You have our complete confidence."

Elim gritted his teeth. He wasn't sure if this was just a ploy to get him away from Cardassia or if she really believed he was the best man for the job. Perhaps both. She was right about him being suited for the role. More than that, he would enjoy it. It might also kill him.

Ambassador to the Federation. An empty title, since there were no diplomatic relations with the Federation. So far. It would be unheard of to refuse such an appointment.

He forced himself to smile. "I am honored. Thank you for your trust, Gul-tar, honored members of the Detapa, I will strive to be worthy of it."

The other Cardassians in the room applauded, perfect background actors in Raghman's play. Elim smiled grimly. Raghman was wrong to think that this would slow him down.

### Deep Space Nine, 2380

When Elim awoke, the first thing he noticed was that they were not alone. He froze for a moment, carefully holding his breath. The presence in the room with them was human, but the man's mind was too controlled to sense more than superficial feelings. That alone told him who he was dealing with. Section 31.

Elim was surprised that they only appeared now. He had expected them earlier. On Earth, on Starbase 1, on the Enterprise... Their absence had made him careless. Hot anger filled him from one moment to the next. He was such an incredible idiot! All the days before he had checked his quarters when he came back in the evening and found nothing. On the very day that someone must have tampered with the security settings, he had been too consumed by lust to notice!

The man must have stunned them both, otherwise Elim would have noticed him sooner, and he was too calm not to have had enough time to go through Elim's quarters and make sure they couldn't attack him. These _were_ his quarters. He could hear the thoughts of the station's inhabitants. Another surprise, and he allowed himself to think about that for a moment. Why were they still here? The man must not have had time to transport him to his ship, or maybe the station's shields had prevented him from doing so. Elim remembered that they had been renewed after the war to prevent unauthorized transports. Of course. A series of tests had been scheduled that night, so the shields were still up. Which meant that it was a very bad time for this action, but the agent had not been able to wait any longer. He knew that Elim would leave the next day. Why he had waited so long remained a mystery.

He opened his eyes with a certain reluctance. The man sitting in the chair in front of the bed, watching them, was a blond, stocky, middle-aged man. He was neither particularly attractive nor particularly ugly. An angular face, gray eyes, and the clothes of any civilian - no one would look at him twice if they saw him on the promenade.

He seemed to be busy studying one of Elim's antique figurines from the shelf in the adjacent room. "You woke up earlier than I expected," he said without looking up. "Interesting."

"Be careful with that," Elim said angrily. "It is a valuable artifact."

The man smiled, and put the figurine aside.

"I've read a great deal about you, Mr Garak. I must say it's really exciting to finally meet you in person." The man's arrogant amusement strained Elim's nerves, all the more so because he knew only too well that the man had every right to feel that way. He had outmaneuvered Elim like a rank beginner.

"What do you want?" Elim asked. He had no patience for the man's games, even though he knew he would have to endure them for better or worse.

"Me?" The man leaned back in his chair and sighed, "A long vacation would be nice. Maybe in Paris. I hear Paris is beautiful this time of year. Weren't you in Paris recently, Mr. Garak? Did you enjoy it?"

"It wasn't particularly inspiring, nor was the rest of your planet."

"I regret to hear that." The man threw something at him and Elim caught it. It was a hypospray.

"It's the cure for the virus I used to infect your handsome Bajoran," the human said with an indifferent tone. "He'll begin to feel the first symptoms in a few hours. By my estimate, death will occur in a day or so."

Elim looked at the device with disgust. He was not stupid enough to inject Iro with it immediately, even though the human was telling the truth. There were two sides to every truth. For all he knew, it would kill him much faster than the virus could. "Why?" he asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Because it was much easier to infect him, of course," the human replied. "After all, I could not know that we would meet in person so soon."

Elim looked at Iro. The Human had gagged him and tied him to the bed, but for the moment his lover was still unconscious. Elim put the device aside. "Do you really think I would betray my people for a Bajoran?"

The man smiled. "No, I'm not that naive. Why else would I have given you the antidote? No, I just wanted to show you that we can cure this disease. Obviously, it will progess differently in Cardassians than in Bajorans. More slowly, most of all."

Elim leaned back into the cushions "Why didn't you wait until I had returned to Cardassia? In a few months, the Federation with its superior medical technology could have saved us all. We would have been so grateful." It would have been a horrifying thought, had they not anticipated something like this. After all, it had happened before. Even though no one had heard from Odo, so the question remained unanswered as to whether his mission had been successful.

The human pursed his lips with sincere regret. "I would have preferred this course of events. Unfortunately, my superiors are too interested in what you discussed with Consul Sotak - and everything else you know, of course".

Elim laughed, although he did not find the whole thing amusing at all. The human had begun to tinker with the control unit they had left lying beside the bed the night before in atrocious negligence with a tool unknown to Elim. Perhaps he was getting old. "Sotak? We talked over lunch about some vulcan studies of human nature. Vulcans value cultured conversation as much as my own people. Why don't you ask him?"

The human looked up briefly. "He told us nothing of value."

Elim clenched his hand in a fist behind his back. He had known Sotak was out of contact, but he had hoped... The Vulcan's death would ultimately benefit them. The Section had been foolish to kill one of their own allies in this manner. "Do you really think you can get me to tell you something of value before someone realizes something's wrong and checks these rooms?"

The human smiled, obviously he had noticed his reaction. "No one will interrupt us, don't worry."

The man's confidence made him angry. Elim had known that Section 31 had a lot of influence, but he had not expected it to extend to Deep Space Nine. Perhaps because he foolishly still considered the station his home, his territory. The Section had known him better than he knew himself, they had waited until he felt safe. That they had the audacity to interrogate him here, in his own quarters, fueled his anger even more. He had underestimated his enemy, and nothing annoyed him more than his own failure.

"I had hoped that you would be reasonable and would decide to save your own life. Dr. Bashir always said you were a man with a healthy self-interest."

Bashir. Another factor he had underestimated. He knew Bashir wasn't working with the Section, even though they would have liked him to, but that didn't mean he wasn't working for them without knowing it. Bashir was a man of many talents, if a little naive and driven by a penchant for fame and adventure. He was also loyal to the Federation, despite all the reasons that spoke against it. Admiral T'Prynn had certainly had no trouble recruiting him. "I bet he also told you I am a patriot."

The man sighed. "Imagine what it will sound like: The Cardassian ambassador murdered by his Bajoran lover." He shook his head. "It doesn't even need the details..."

"I think you overestimate the compassion of my people for persons who are stupid enough to get involved with former terrorists." It would have ruined his reputation forever if there had been anything to ruin. Elim stroked Iro's arm, and his pulse convinced him that he had not imagined the fleeting movement. Would it jeopardice the alliance? It certainly wouldn't make it any easier. Elim abhorred the thought that the imperialists on Cardassia would use his death for their own purposes.

"Then why did you do it?" the man asked curiously. "You seem to be a smart man."

Elim looked at Iro, who still pretended to remain unconscious. "One of my weaknesses, it seems. I've missed it, I suppose. Bajorans are so much more sensitive than Cardassian subjects." This time, he felt the twitch under his hand, although it was still too subtle for human eyes.

When he looked at the human again, he saw the disgust in his gaze. Humans were such hypocrites. He had stopped tinkering with the control unit and now turned it between his fingers. "I have always found these Obsidian Order implants very annoying. How good to know that there is such an easy way around them. My superiors will be pleased."

Elim tensed his muscles and jumped. He smashed against the force field surrounding the bed and was thrown back violently. For a moment, everything spun around him. The human laughed. "You didn't really think I was going to make it that easy for you, did you?" he said, getting serious. "Tell me what I want to know. Tell me what the Order is planning."

Elim took a deep breath. "You are a man who chases fantasies. The Obsidian Order was destroyed by the Dominion years ago."

The pain when it began surpassed anything Elim had ever felt before. Cardassian torture was more subtle, it usually had the goal of keeping the subject alive. That's what the limits were for, which the human had obviously turned off. Of course, the man didn't have much time for subtlety, but still... Elim struggled to catch his breath when he came to, and he felt a familiar panic rising within him. He had never been good at handling pain. His muscles twitched in uncontrolled movements as he slowly regained control over them, and he curled up against his will as if that would somehow help. It stank of urine.

How could he protect Cardassia when just a few minutes of pain reduced him to such a pathetic wreck?

"Tell me what I want to know."

Elim flinched when he heard the voice. He hadn't even noticed that the human had gotten so close to him. "I know nothing about the Obsidian Order."

"All right," the man said deceptively friendly. "Maybe I'll take your word for it. Why don't you tell me about Cardassia instead? Is it a beautiful planet?"

Elim smiled despite the pain. "Yes. Cardassia will always be the most beautiful planet for me." He thought of the newly created avenues in Coranum, the growing towers in Tor, rising like black Ten'pra trees in the glaring light of the sun. He thought of the gardens he had wandered through with Palandine and the sweet scent of orchids. He thought of the new ships of the Hareki class that glided through space like a shoal of sand fish.

"Garak!"

Elim laboriously turned his eyes towards the man.

"Where do you get your resources?"

"Alouette, gentille alouette, alouette, je te plumerai," he replied, not quite suppressing a laugh. Perhaps it was foolhardy to recite something he had picked up from the man’s mind, but Elim no longer cared. The man stared at him, and Elim suddenly knew his name. What useless information... The next moment he had already forgotten it when pain took over.

He didn't know how much later it was when he came to again. The human's questions had always remained the same, but he had not a nswered them the last few times. His muscles were so weak that he could no longer move, and he tasted blood. Without the genetic enhancements, he would not have survived the last round. Elim smiled when the human leaned over him. His lips had begun to turn blue.

"What's so amusing?", the man asked angrily. He was no longer as arrogant as he had been in the beginning. He had realized by now that he would not get the information he wanted, at the latest when the drugs he had given Elim did not work.

Elim licked his lips. It was difficult to speak. "You're a dead man, Ghislain," he finally said, laughing. Blood filled his mouth and he coughed when he could not breathe. "A dead man."

The human took a step back, and for the first time, Elim saw something like fear in his eyes. A split second later, he began to choke and collapsed. The blue color of his lips crawled like a spider web over his face and the rest of his body, turning to black.

Elim wished he could have watched him die, but he was far too weak. He was not even able to penetrate the man's thoughts to get the information in his mind that could have been so useful. He saw a few names, a few faces, though. That would have to be enough.

It took time for the worst damage to heal enough for him to turn to Iro and loosen the handcuffs binding his wrists. His fingers rested for a moment on the bloody welts the cuffs had left. It seemed his Bajoran had eventually given up pretending to be unconscious. Iro released the rest of his restraints and looked down at him. "Is he dead?"

"In a few minutes, he will be _extinguished_."

Iro looked down briefly at the twitching body of the human. " _Good_."

"It was his own fault," Elim said lightly. "He shouldn't have touched that figurine."

Iro glanced at him briefly, recognizing, Elim assumed, what luck he had had the day before.

"What about the force field?"

"Open the panel behind the lamp," he said with difficulty.

Iro did it, and understood without further prompting what his intention had been. He pulled the energy converter out of the wall and hurled it towards the force field. The field overloaded with a hissing sound and its energy source, which had been next to the chair, exploded.

"Help me to the bathroom," Elim said. Iro lifted him up without comment and carried him into the bathroom, where he placed him in the sonic shower.

"You need medical attention. Let me call my people..."

"Do they know that I know what you are?" Elim replied, annoyed.

"Yes, of course."

That was not the answer Elim had expected. Iro raised an eyebrow. "I am no traitor, Elim. I informed them I would tell you."

"It seems they don’t like you very much if they send you to Cardassia anyway."

Iro pressed his lips together. "They see no other option."

Elim closed his eyes for a moment. "No. We must leave the station as soon as possible. I feel well enough."

"You can hardly stand on your feet!"

That was true, but he had to cope with that. The human had told the truth about the virus. Elim had no intention of letting Iro die, much less die himself. He managed to get dressed and packed his things. "Where are your bags?"

"At the docking ring, in the baggage room."

Elim pulled out his communicator and pressed a few keys to reach the captain of the Xepolite freighter who would take him back to Cardassian space. "Prepare for departure," he merely said. "We'll be aboard in fifteen minutes." The Xepolite did not ask any questions, he simply confirmed the order.

Iro watched him as he threw the artifacts and hypospray into his suitcase. "You are immune?" he guessed.

"Of course I am." He was grateful when Iro took the suitcase and supported him.

The human’s body had almost disintegrated completely by then. In a short time not even molecules would be left of him. The thought gave Elim grim satisfaction. He broke the back of one of his books, and nanites fell out between the leather pages like black powder. They would make sure that nothing remained his quarters that could cause problems, even if the human had recorded their conversation. Iro watched him, but said nothing.

Fortunately, the way from the Habitat Ring to the Docking Ring was not very far and they hardly met anyone. The Bajorans who saw them took great pains not to see them. It worried Elim that he wasn't already feeling much better. Ever since he had been enhanced in Sandun, his body healed from even severe injuries at an almost unnatural speed, but he still could barely stand when they reached the Xepolite ship, and they had picked up Iro's bag on the way. The Xepolite at the airlock just glanced at them and waved them in hastily.

A moment later he heard the docking clamps loosen and felt a profound relief. "How long to the Cardassian border?"

"Two hours. We can't go full speed while we're still within sensor range of the station." The ship's first officer sounded apologetic. Elim just nodded. He knew that. Ships of this class usually did not have high warp drive, and had the Federation known about it, it would have raised troublesome questions. The Xepolite wrung his hands. "Mr. Garak, there's another problem..."

Elim gritted his teeth. That was the very last thing he wanted to hear. "Yes?

"We had to take a passenger with us. Kira wouldn't let us leave without taking him. She threatened an inspection..." The man's skin was almost white with nervousness.

Elim clenched his fists. "Can we get rid of him?" He didn't bother to hide exactly how he meant it.

The Xepolite became even paler, if that was possible. "He's a Starfleet officer..."

"A Starfleet officer!" Elim lost his temper. He was exhausted, he had had an extremely bad day, and this was the last straw that broke the camel's back. He didn't care that the Xepolites had had no choice. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you want to provoke an interstellar incident? I thought my partners had made themselves clear! I thought you understood how essential it is to keep Federation agents away from this ship!"

The Xepolite had taken two steps back and cowered. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Garak... Colonel Kira..."

Elim hissed angrily. He took a deep breath a few times. "Who is it? Do you know his name?"

"A Dr. Bashir," the man whispered, as if a loud word would provoke him further.

"Bashir!" Elim laughed almost hysterically. Of course, Bashir! Why not? "First Section 31, now bloody Starfleet Intelligence! What is their brilliant plan? Do they want me to take him to Cardassia? Oh, why not! You'd look pretty together, Iro, don't you think?"

"I'm flattered you find me so attractive, Garak. At least I think I am." Bashir had appeared at the end of the corridor. He wasn't wearing a Starfleet uniform and he was his typical arrogant self.

Elim looked at the Xepolite who shrank even more. "You're letting him roam free on this ship? Why don't you give him a tour while you’re at it?"

"I'm a passenger of this ship, just as you are," Bashir said calmly. "I have every right to be here."

Elim laughed again. "Every right, of course. Where's your uniform, Doctor? Don't tell me you resigned your commission to accompany me."

"That's exactly what I did," Bashir replied. He wasn't lying, at least not about the fact. He had resigned his official duties to pursue this mission.

Iro's grip around Elim's arm grew stronger.

"It seems his superiors don't like him very much either," Elim said to Iro, then turned to the Xepolite, "Take this fool to a holding cell.”

Bashir stared at him with his mouth open. "You can't be serious. Garak, I thought we were friends!"

Elim met his eyes in disbelief. "Friends? You're a Federation Intelligence agent, Doctor. Did you think I didn't know that?"

Two Xepolite security guards appeared and grabbed the doctor, who only half-heartedly fought against them. Yes, the idiot had really thought Elim didn't know - even though they had known each other for so long.

Elim staggered, and leaned against the wall after the Xepolites had taken the doctor away. "Give him an anesthetic, double the dose," he said tiredly. "I'll take him with me."

The Xepolite officer nodded hastily and eyed him anxiously. "Are you all right?"

"No," Elim replied brusquely. "You better hurry."

The man nodded nervously. "Let me show you your quarters."

As Iro helped him along, Elim felt increasingly weaker.

"Are you sure we should proceed according to the usual routine?", the Xepolite asked worriedly. "You don't look like you can fly a shuttle."

"Let me worry about that," he said weakly, and let Iro set him down on the bed of the small room. He let himself sink backwards and enjoyed for a moment to just lie there.

A little later he heard the door close. "Did he leave?"

Iro nodded. He looked at him worried. "You really don't look well, Elim. To be honest, you look like you have internal injuries. Is there no doctor on board this ship?"

Elim laughed dryly. "I just had him put in a holding cell."

"Another doctor."

Elim shook his head tiredly. "None I'd trust myself to." Iro was right, he probably had internal injuries, and they had to be severe enough that they could not heal easily. "The ship waiting for us is more than adequately equipped to solve all our problems. How are you, my dear?" He had not forgotten that the human had said that the symptoms of the infection would set in in a few hours. He did not even know how long ago that was!

"I feel fine. No symptoms yet. Maybe it was a bluff."

Elim shook his head. He knew it hadn’t been. Iro didn't suggest taking the alleged cure. He knew as well as Elim that it was more likely poison. Their scientists would investigate it anyway, maybe would give them a clue.

"What if they can't cure it?"

Elim squeezed Iro's hand. "Then we die." He took a deep breath. "We have two hours. I want you to send a report to your superiors while we're still on this side of the border."

Iro looked at him thoughtfully for a while, then nodded and went to the computer console. Elim closed his eyes.

### Farha, 2378

The encounter with Manisi remained on Elim's mind for a long time. The young woman fascinated him, and not just because she possessed Iliana's beauty. Iliana... was a complicated woman. The friendship that had developed between them had been unexpected. At first, Elim had hoped that it would turn into something more, but he soon realized that Iliana had no interest in a romantic relationship. For a while, he had surprised himself by continuing to spend time with her. They did not have much in common. Iliana, despite all her experiences, was a very straightforward, somewhat naive woman. She believed that Raghman would make Cardassia a better place, and she believed in it with the same conviction that had once made her join the Obsidian Order.

She was far too blunt to have ever been a good agent. Her patriotism, however, made her a perfect Gul, a species Elim had never held in high esteem. Nevertheless, their friendship had endured.

All the more he was captivated by how different her sister was. He hadn't had long to study her, but he was still sure that she was more than what she seemed. She had been the perfect hostess, certainly, but at no point had Elim been able to read her thoughts, not even her feelings - something that was easy with Iliana, despite her training.

She was a mystery wrapped in a beautiful woman's body, which would make her a perfect trap if Raghman had wanted to devise one for him. Elim knew this, but instead of that stopping him, it just made her more interesting.

It was foolish to visit her again, he knew that. Yet one morning he knocked on her door again.

The young woman took a step back in surprise when she saw who was at her door. For a moment she seemed tense, but in the blink of an eye that was gone, and she smiled as if she had been expecting him. "Mr. Garak. What a surprise." She stepped aside to let him in.

The apartment was much messier than last time, which proved that she had then known beforehand that visitors were coming. Her flying lizard hung upside down from the ceiling in one corner of the room, along with two other lizards he hadn't seen the last time. When he entered, one of them woke up and stared down at him with green-yellow eyes.

"How is it that you visit me again," she asked, "Did you miss my tea so much?"

"Perhaps I missed the hostess." Elim looked at the paintings on the walls. They were so different that they should have seemed chaotic in such a small space, but somehow Iliana's sister had managed to arrange them to form a harmonious set. Elim especially liked the abstract paintings, which reminded him of Ziyal's work.

Manisi watched him critically. "My sister may trust you, Mr. Garak, but I am not my sister. You and your organization represent everything I have learned to fear from childhood. Forgive my directness, but I don't believe you." She poured him tea again, a surreal contrast to her coldly spoken words.

Elim was a little surprised that Iliana had told her sister that he worked for the Order. What else had she told her? Everything? If the woman was afraid of him, you couldn't tell it from her behaviour. She had good reason to if she was. Twenty years earlier, he would have handed her over to the authorities without hesitation, in the full knowledge that she would not survive it. He had changed since then. Sometimes it scared him how he could have once believed so absolutely in something that he now knew was fundamentally wrong. He took the cup from her hand and inhaled the scent of the tea. His uncle Tolan had loved this tea. "You have no reason to fear me," he said calmly. "I'm not here to harm you."

"Then why are you here?"

"You fascinate me," he replied honestly. "You are a mystery I have not yet solved."

"Am I?" She laughed cynically. "I don't think I want to be your mystery, Mr. Garak. Nothing good can come of it."

### Breman, 2377

Elim looked at the three-dimensional network of glittering dots that stretched out in front of them. With a gesture of his hand, it rearranged itself and a map of Cardassia became visible.

"Over seventy percent of our surviving agents have reported back," he said, studying the dots thoughtfully. Each of them was a chip that had activated in response to the Order's call, an agent who had appeared at the meeting of his unit.

"It is impressive what you have achieved in such a short time," Pythas said. The man still moved cautiously, but Eknaar's skill had worked wonders. His blind eye had been replaced by a bionic prosthesis, and almost all burn scars had disappeared. The different colors of his eyes unsettled some people, but Pythas wanted it that way. He wanted the Cardassians to be reminded of what had happened, and he wanted to be reminded himself. "Are you sure you want to leave me in charge of the Order?"

Elim smiled thinly. "You say that as if I'm doing you a favor."

Pythas returned the smile. It gave Elim satisfaction that it was the same smile he knew from the past. His old friend had not only regained his physical condition, he had regained his inner strength. He was not worried that the man would use his position against him. Pythas was as loyal as Akreen and Marendrial, if not more loyal. He was no telepath, but he controlled his thoughts well enough to block telepaths. Elim trusted Pythas, and there were not many he could say that about. Pythas was the perfect person to represent the Order to the outside world, and not just because he had been head of the Order before. "Whatever you say." The other man looked at the lights in front of them. "What about the other thirty percent?"

"Some of them may have lost or destroyed their chip. I hope to hear from them once the Order officially resumes its work. Some of them are probably dead and not yet in the databases. Some of them work for Raghman, their names will be deleted from the register. They will of course never work for the Order again, but as a concession to Raghman, we will not hold them accountable for their desertion. In any case, all of them were removed from the Active Agents Register by Tain, so one could argue that he dismissed them from service.” It did not matter that no one had ever been dismissed from the service of the Order before. Tain had expected these agents to die or never get their memories back, which was the same. "It will remain a one-time concession. The rest..." Elim remained silent for a moment. All agents who deliberately left the call unanswered were deserters. They might think that the Order was no longer functional, but when the Order became official again, there was no longer any excuse. "If we tolerate such disobedience, it will soften the structures of the Order from the beginning. If we tolerate desertion and betrayal in our own ranks, how can we credibly defend the integrity of our state?

"I agree with you there," Pythas said. His old friend had always been a cold strategist. Pythas had never allowed himself sentimentality, he had always kept himself apart. Elim wondered briefly if Nal had changed that. If so, Pythas would certainly not let him know. He was sure he regretted his request the first time they met - he would never have said these words if he hadn't believed Elim would kill him. Something Elim had never even considered, but he was not offended that Pythas had expected it. Elim would have thought the same thing in his place. "We cannot afford weakness if we are to face Raghman and her Antamon on an equal footing."

Elim had no secrets from Pythas. He had openly shared his plans and concerns with him - it was necessary if Pythas was to fulfill his function efficiently. Elim did not want a puppet, even though he expected the man to subordinate himself to him when it mattered.

They changed a look, and nodded. They both agreed on this issue. Good.

"Well then," Pythas said. "The time has come. I will talk to the Gul-tar, the Castellan and Central Command tomorrow. They will have no choice but to return us to our rightful place."

Those words, Elim thought, had a wonderful ring to them. He raised his glass of kanar, and suddenly remembered another situation with a similar man. "To the future, my friend." He hoped that this enterprise would not end as disastrously as the last one he had so toasted to.

Pythas raised his glass in response. "To the future, and the man who made it possible."

Elim almost laughed, so ironic was this toast. Instead, he raised the glass to his lips and emptied it in one go. "This work, my friend, has only just begun."


End file.
